


Summer Nights On A Farm

by watchingthestars13



Series: The Life And Times Of Emma Barton [2]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Clint Barton's Farm, Deaf Clint Barton, Emma's Birthday, Emma's friends all get a mention, F/M, Family Feels, Gen, Layla even gets interaction, PTSD, if you haven't read part one I'm not sure if you should hop into this rabbithole, parenting is hard, teenage love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-06
Updated: 2016-08-29
Packaged: 2018-07-21 22:21:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 31,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7407397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/watchingthestars13/pseuds/watchingthestars13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emma's birthday is coming up, and the two agents decide to leave the city for a while, and show Emma another way of life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Not-Quite Dates And Commercial Flights

**Author's Note:**

> Hello friends!  
> This is... This is just an excuse to write fluff. Not even remotely sorry for it. This short story begins around a month after the last one ended, and is just cutesy. Keep in mind that I haven't seen AoU and therefore the farm there is not the same as the farm here. I can't really think of any other way to describe this, so...  
> Enjoy! <3

 

Nervously, Clint shifted on his high stool. The little family was alone in the kitchen, eating breakfast before everyone else stormed in. Emma was still only wearing her Supergirl underwear and a t-shirt that was too big for her with 'Florence + the Machine' in big letters. Clint glanced over at Natasha, who nodded almost imperceptibly from the other side of their daughter.

"So, Emma," he began, and Emma looked up at him with a smile. 

"Yeah?"

"Your birthday is coming up." He caught the minute wrinkle of her nose, and wrinkled his with her. "Yeah, we know you hate birthdays, which is why we have a suggestion." 

"What would that be?" she asked curiously. 

"Well, actually, I have... A place." Natasha stroked Emma's arm almost distantly, and Clint cleared his throat awkwardly. "In another state. We could take a trip there for your birthday, just the three of us. 

"Like a vacation?" Emma asked, eyes bright with excitement. 

"Yeah, just like a vacation," Clint smiled. "You'd like that?"

"I'd love that!" Emma exclaimed, and Natasha smiled secretly at how easy it was to excite Emma with things some people would consider commonplace. "When're we leaving?"

"We're going commercial," Natasha said, and Clint nodded. "So we'll have to book flights, but we can probably leave around the sixteenth, if you'd like that."

"Yes! That, let's do that! This is gonna be so awesome! Where is this place?"

"I can't tell you, but I think you'll like it."

"It's a little different from New York," Natasha relayed. 

"You've been there?" Emma asked curiously. Natasha's green eyes flickered over to Clint with a tiny sigh. 

"Yeah. When missions went particularly wrong, we used to go there. And now we want to show you," Natasha said gently as Emma beamed at them. 

"I feel like I'm being allowed into a secret club," she giggled. Clint grinned.

"You kinda are. Very few people know about this place," he confided, and her eyes grew wide.

"Really?" she whispered, and Clint nodded seriously, much to Natasha's amusement. Sure, very few people actually _knew_ about the place where they were going, but Clint was making it sound much more exciting than it was.

"Yup."

Emma giggled.

"I have to go tell Damian!" she exclaimed, hopping off the chair and grabbing her bowl of cereal.

"Actually, while you're on it, you could start packing too," Clint said, and Emma squealed with joy as she hopped into the elevator. When the doors closed, Natasha tilted her head at Clint appraisingly.

"How excited do you think she'll be when she finds out where we're going?"

"Emma? She'll be even more excited. She's probably never been close to where we're going," he said, looking very pleased with himself for getting their daughter so excited as he sipped his coffee. Natasha rolled her eyes fondly.

\---

Emma finished her cereal and went up to Steve and Tony's floor to steal a bag. Steve's closet provided her with a relatively large bag, and she heaved it into the elevator and took it down to their floor.

She grabbed her phone from the couch and pushed the bag with her foot into her room as she dialed a familiar number.

"What?" came the grumbled response from the other side. Emma smiled. Her grumpy little vigilante. He'd probably been out on patrol late. She knew better than to be dragged down by his grumpy tone.

"We're going on vacation!" Emma exclaimed joyously as she threw the bag on the bed.

"Vacation?" Damian repeated, sounding mildly disgusted, and a little more awake. "Why?"

"Vacations are fun! And, we're going for my birthday, to get away from all the things about birthdays that I hate," she replied.

"You don't like birthdays?"

"Hate 'em."

"Why?"

"They're just... Too much. A weird tradition by the way. Why would I celebrate the day I was born? I didn't do anything special that day. If anything, it's Bea that we should be celebrating for pushing me out." She pressed her phone between her shoulder and her cheek and grabbed a bunch of underwear.

"Celebrating birthdays is about presents and cake and using other people's notions that the birthdayboy gets what he wants against them," Damian accused. "I thoroughly enjoy my birthdays to the fullest."

"By using people's niceness against them? What kind of birthdays have you _had_?"

"Well, apparently when I was being born mother sliced the throat of the nursemaid and let her fall into the pool where I was." Emma's eyes widened.

"I've said it before, and I'll say it again-"

"You don't like my mother."

"I really, _really_ don't," Emma affirmed as she grabbed some t-shirts from her closet. "If I ever see her, I'll probably punch her."

"You don't know what she looks like," Damian said, sounding surprisingly fond. It was another one of those new things, one of those new, tenative things he was doing since they'd gotten together.

They'd barely been together, for real _together_ , for a month, and the only thing they'd actually done was have a movie marathon in their sweats. She'd had her feet in his lap and her hand in his hair, and it had been a weird kind of perfect date, because it had barely been a date at all. He'd just asked her to come over and acted like the Damian she knew, and bam, movie date.

"I'll find out," she told him very seriously.

"You can try. She's good at hiding in plain sight."

"What with being an assassin?" Emma asked with raised eyebrows.

"Leader of the League of Assassins," he corrected, and Emma sighed as she grabbed a couple of shorts out of the neat pile of laundry on her desk.

"Sounds like a heavy burden to carry."

"Mother took it from grandfather."

"I was talking about you." Damian was silent for a while, and Emma stopped packing for a moment to just listen to him breathe slowly. "Man, you must have so much pressure on you. Your mom is the leader of an assassin empire, and your dad is against killing with every fiber of his being. They must've urged you to pick sides."

"I chose father's," he said sharply, and Emma threw her chucks into the bag.

"I know," she replied softly. "I know. That's good. That makes you good." Damian swallowed, and she sat down on the bed. "Want to come over?"

"I'll be there in a moment," he muttered and hung up, and Emma smiled softly as she returned to her packing.

\---

"No way," Darcy groaned. "They're in the South pacific?"

"Some place called the Cook islands," Bruce nodded. "It's somewhere between Hawaii and New Zeeland. I thought they'd go to Europe or something."

"Too basic," Bucky said as he sipped his coke, and Darcy laughed.

"You're more hip than I am. It's a little concerning," she told him as she patted his leg. The arm that had been resting on the back of the couch slid down and curled around her bare arm.

"Gotta keep up with me," he challenged, and Darcy gaped at him for a shocked moment, and then she laughed.

"C'mon hot stuff, I'll make you keep up with me," she said as she dragged him to his feet. He chuckled and crunched the can in his metal hand to a tiny ball when they strode into the kitchen in time for Natasha to speak up.

"We're leaving tomorrow," Natasha explained, and Emma nodded. Bucky froze.

"Where're you going?" he asked suspiciously, and Darcy stopped too, frowning at them.

"We're going on vacation!" Emma exclaimed happily.

"It's a secure location," Clint promised Bucky, and the some of the sudden tension in his shoulders slipped out.

"You'll be fine," Emma told him, almost as if she knew exactly what he was thinking. He gave her a sceptical look.

"When you three leave, only Thor will be able to possibly restrain me," he said. _In case I go off_ was the silent ending to that sentence, and one that everyone heard.

"Hey, I could take you on," Darcy joked, and Bucky raised an eyebrow at Natasha, who shrugged.

"She's pretty good at jujutsu," Natasha determined. "Not sure if she could take you on."

"See? You'll be fine," Darcy smiled. Bucky smiled at her, and Clint remembered something.

"You don't have any sessions planned?" he asked Emma, who shook her head.

"Nope. My next one is like..." She frowned, and Natasha sighed fondly.

"The twentyfifth," she said. Emma pointed to Natasha.

"What she said."

"That's all you," Natasha complained, and Clint grinned. Emma laughed as she glanced at her phone. Clint narrowed his eyes as he zeroed in on that one action.

"What's up, Em?" he asked suspiciously. Emma blinked at them, wide-eyed.

"Damian is coming over," she announced, and Natasha smiled as Darcy wolf-whistled.

"Have some good old teenage fun," she said and patted Emma's hand as Emma rolled her eyes.

"No," Clint said sternly. "Don't do that."

"Chill out, I'm just making him come over so I can hug him," she told them all. "I brought up unpleasant memories."

"And you just miss him," Darcy added. Emma crossed her arms over her chest.

"What's so wrong about that?" she asked indignantly, and Darcy smiled as Emma blushed a little.

"Nothing, sweetie. Not a thing."

"What kind of bad memories?" Bucky asked almost suspiciously.

"About his mom," Emma shrugged. Bucky sucked in a breath.

"Oh," he said.

" _Oh_?" Clint repeated curiously. Bucky grunted, and held his hand out towards Darcy, who took it with a puzzled look.

"Nevermind," he said, and Emma gave him a grateful look. Bucky gave her a short nod before he walked into the elevator with a still puzzled Darcy.

Emma's phone chirped.

"That's him!" she said, possibly a little giddier than she'd planned on, and she hopped off the chair to go greet her friend. Natasha and Clint exchanged knowing looks, and Natasha smiled softly.

\---

"Not that," Damian said distantly from where he was on her bed, scrolling his phone and glancing up right before Emma threw things into her bag to stop her or allow her.

"Why not?" Emma asked.

"You have seven different shirts with you. When was the last time you changed out of the one you're wearing right now?" he asked with a pointed eyebrow. Emma looked down on her purple t-shirt, and grimaced.

"Three days ago, I think?"

"You don't even know?" Emma made a 'dunno' noise, and Damian rolled his eyes. "See? You don't need another shirt. Pick something else."

"Well... I don't have any dresses with me," Emma perked up as she swept back towards her closet.

"Do you like dresses?" Damian asked almost distantly, and Emma shot him a look from the corner of her eye. He was back to nonchalantly scrolling, but she knew that Damian wasn't distant, not unknowingly.

"I do," Emma told him as she grabbed one of the dark-green summer dresses she'd gotten last time she'd gone shopping and tossed that into her bag. "Dresses are very nice. But I prefer pants most of the time. Less chance of accidentally getting my skirt whisked up by some wind and showing my undies."

Damian huffed at that.

"You're just jealous 'cause you don't have the hips for a skirt," Emma sing-songed as she plucked a grey skirt with white polka dots all over it out of the closet and threw it into the bag.

"But I do have the ass for it."

Emma burst out laughing, and Damian smirked at her from the bed.

"You do," she approved as she grabbed another skirt, a navy one. Emma thought for a moment, and then tapped her lips with her finger. "I don't even know where we're going."

"Bring a sweater," Damian suggested. "Sweaters are constantly needed." Emma grabbed the hoodie off the floor and considered it.

"I think I'm gonna wear this tomorrow," she said and threw it over her chair.

"Can you still wear those pale jeans?" Damian asked, and Emma sighed sadly.

"No. I'm too tall now. Bruce thinks I'll be like 5'10" when I grow up."

"I'm going to be at least 6'3"," Damian declared, and she smiled as she sat down on the bed by his feet.

"Let me guess, that's taller than your dad and Jason," she smirked. Damian made his -tt- noise, and Emma snorted. "Seriously? Damian."

"Todd is the tallest of us. For now," he said, and she laughed as she flopped down next to him, where his head was on her pillow.

"You're silly," she told him.

"Wanting to be taller than Todd is not being silly, it's being practical."

"Because some day you're gonna have to fight him?"

"That, and to establish my dominance." Emma snorted.

"Weirdo," she said affectionately. "How tall is your dad?"

"6'1" without his boots," Damian stated, and put his phone down, turned to look at her with a small smile. One of those very rare, but one of his most pleasant, smiles.

"And Dick?"

"5'8"."

"Really? I'm determined to be taller than Dick then, and you can be taller than Jason. Deal?"

"Strange deal," Damian remarked, and Emma laughed joyously.

"Yeah. I'm gonna rock being tall."

"You're not exactly short for your age."

"You'd think that a healing factor would make you grow faster."

"It doesn't?" Damian asked, and Emma shook her head with a mournful sigh.

"Nope. The only reason I started growing again in the last year was because I got food regularly again, and got to eat my fill. That was nice."

She felt Damian's fingers enlace hers, and turned to look at him. His face was grim.

"I was ten when my mother dumped me on father, and I had never had pancakes. I never really knew what it was like to be full until I had tasted them."

Emma took her free hand and traced his jawline with a finger, swallowing.

"We've both seen some hard times," she said quietly. Damian nodded wordlessly, his breath coming in puffs of air that she could feel on her cheeks. They were probably too close, but Emma found the thrill of it strangely enjoyable.

There was a loud ringtone, and they both startled, sitting up. Emma's phone over on her desk was ringing, and she rolled out of the bed, picking the phone up to see Layla flashing on the screen.

"Answer that," she said, tossing it to Damian. He complied, turning it into a video call, and looked as bored as he usually was.

"Yes, Jones?" he drawled, as Emma grabbed the maroon sweater from her closet. He looked up at it, and nodded, and Emma tossed it in the bag.

"Damian?" came Layla's surprised inquiry. "Are you at Emma's place?"

"No, she left her phone at my place," he replied, and Layla snorted.

"Yeah, sure. Can you put Emma on?" Damian tapped the screen to switch cameras, and Emma waved at her as she threw in a tanktop.

"Sup' Lay," Emma said with a smirk.

"Aaron is coming over in half an hour and I have nothing to wear!" she groaned. Damian rolled over on his stomach and flipped the camera again, so that it showed his face and Emma rooting around in the background.

"What about that blue skirt you use all the time? That one makes your track legs look amazing," Emma remarked. Damian made a noise that was all disagreement, and Emma squinted at him. "What?"

"She wears that _all the time_ ," he pressed. "That means it's too casual for a date. Any dresses or skirts you don't use in school would be sufficient."

"But I wear literally all my skirts and all my dresses to school," Layla moaned woefully.

"Seriously?" Emma asked, taken aback.

"Yeah, man. I love dresses and skirts. They're my constant go-to."

"Huh," Emma mumbled thoughtfully. "I've never actually thought about that. You wear dresses during the winter too." Layla shrugged on the screen.

"I've got very nice legs."

"I agree," Emma nodded.

"All this talk isn't solving your problem," Damian remarked. Emma snapped her fingers when she had a flash of an idea.

"Oh, you should wear that cute floral jumpsuit!" she said, yet again flopping down next to Damian. "The lilac one."

"Really? Shouldn't I wear a dress or something?" she said skeptically.

"Let's see the jumpsuit," Damian said thoughtfully. Layla shrugged and propped her phone up against something on her desk as she disappeared over to her closet. The floor was a mess of skirts and dresses, and Emma snickered.

"Your room looks like a tornado has swept through it," she said, and Layla pulled the lilac jumpsuit out of the closet, pressing it to her body.

"Hey, shut up, I'm nervous," she pouted.

"I approve of the jumpsuit," Damian determined, and Layla smiled shyly.

"So what do you guys think about Aaron?" she asked carefully.

"He seems like a sweet guy," Emma smiled reassuringly.

"A little dimwitted, well suited for you," Damian shrugged. Layla rolled her eyes at him. "And if he gets handsy, you remember what I've told you."

"Grab his finger and jerk it backward fast and hard," Layla nodded, and Emma gave Damian a mildly stunned look.

"You've taught Layla how to break fingers of handsy guys?" she asked softly. Damian shrugged and looked back at the phone.

"Only when it was needed." Emma smiled secretively, and leaned over to kiss his cheek.

"That's nice," she murmured. Damian glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, and Layla's sigh brought them back to themselves.

"You two are cute," Layla sighed as she hopped into the jumpsuit and zipped it up. It was one of those short jumpsuits, with no sleeves and pantlegs that ended in the middle of her thighs. The lilac background was accented with tons of flowers in blue and green.

"We know," Emma said with a smirk. "Anyway, that's proper date attire."

"Speaking of, have you guys gone on any dates yet?" Layla asked with a wiggle of her eyebrows as she began throwing her clothes back into her closet.

"Kinda." Damian furrowed his eyebrows.

"When?" he asked incredulously.

"The movie thing?"

"Watching movies in sweatpants counts as a date?" he asked. Emma shrugged.

"It was nice. I thought that counted as a date."

"That's not a date," Layla scoffed. "Especially since I know that the two of you are creative enough and rich enough to come up with something weirdly awesome as a date."

"Oh yeah, you're rich, I expect good dates from you," Emma said, poking Damian in the shoulder playfully.

"What, fancy restaurants?"

"Well... Not really."

"What's your definition of a good date then? I can't be expected to conform to standards I don't know about." Emma tapped his lips with a finger as she thought.

"I thought the movie thing was a great date! Can't we just stick to those things so we don't have to be awkward?" she frowned, and Damian blinked.

"It was... Nice," he admitted, and Emma smiled.

"It was very nice."

"Ugh, such a wasted resource," Layla muttered.

"Hey, if we wanna chill and watch movies and call it a date, we're gonna," Emma said with a scowl. "Don't you have a date to get to?"

"Shit, I have to stop Taylor from opening the door!" Layla realized with wide eyes, and she waved at them. "Thanks for the help with the clothes, guys! See ya!"

"Call us after," Emma demanded, and Layla flashed them a quick grin before she hung up.

"You know, I _could_ take you to a fancy restaurant," Damian said, and Emma smiled as she rolled over on her back.

"Yeah, I know. But I like you better when you're relaxed, and you're much more relaxed when we're not around people." Damian's eyebrows flicked in admittance, and she smiled at him.

"Do you have any movies you wish to see right now?" he inquired. Emma thought about it.

"ParaNorman?" she questioned, and Damian's eyebrows furrowed unknowingly. " _Dude_. ParaNorman? You haven't seen it?"

"No."

"What about Coraline? The people who made Coraline made ParaNorman too."

"No?" Emma huffed at him.

"I would say that we should also watch Coraline, but that fucking movie scares the shit out of me. I was scared to look at shirt buttons for a while." That earned her a snort of derision from Damian, and she smacked his arm. "No, fuck you, now we're watching Coraline too. Come on."

She got out of bed and hopped over her bag on the way to the living room, and Damian smiled secretly as he followed her.

\---

The next day, Clint woke up to vibrations and flashing. Groaning, he flapped a hand out, and his alarm clock fell to the floor. Instead of quieting down, the alarm shook harder and flashed brighter. Damn Tony and being able to make durable alarm clocks.

Natasha rolled over him to pick up the alarm clock, draping her beautiful naked self over him as she did. He smiled, ready to fall right back asleep when the vibrating and flashing ceased.

He watched through slits as Natasha launched the alarm clock into the wall, where it left a mark, and split into two pieces. _Good going Natasha_ , he thought. He hummed pleasantly as Natasha straddled him, and wrapped his arms around her to get her to go back to sleep too, when she pinched his side.

"Ow!" he yelped as his eyes sprang open, staring up into Natasha's annoyed face. Her hair was in disarray, her mouth pinched, and she looked beautiful, as angry as she was. "What was that for?"

" **Do you know how long it took for your alarm to wake you up?** " she signed angrily, and he huffed, trying to reel in his smile. He knew it would only anger her further if he pointed out that she looked very cute when she was sleep rumpled and pissy.

"Long, I'm gonna guess," he winced apologetically.

" **Very. Also, your alarm clock scares the crap out of me** ," Natasha signed, and Clint couldn't help himself any longer, smiling like a loon as his hands settled on her hips.

"Sorry Nat. Does this mean that I'm gonna have to get up?"

" **Your stupid clock woke me up, which means it was supposed to wake you up** ," Natasha signed. Clint pouted.

"No good morning kiss?" he asked, and Natasha rolled her eyes before giving him a quick peck on the lips. He hugged her tight to his chest with one arm as he tilted her head with the other, deepening the kiss lovingly.

When he finally released her lips, he felt her breath ghost over his chin in a sigh, shaking her head exasperatedly as she swung off him and out of bed. He reached for his hearing aids, sitting in their charger, and turned them on.

"How do you think Emma is gonna handle the whole airplane thing?" he asked as he put them in his ears, watching as Natasha put her hair up in a messy ponytail.

She glanced behind her as he sat up, and shrugged as she slipped into her underwear.

"She'll probably think it's fun," Natasha replied. "She has a tendency to embrace the scary."

"That's true," Clint acknowledged as Natasha snapped her bra on, one of her more comfortable ones. It was all black, as were her underwear, and Clint felt a little shudder pass through him at the sight.

He stood up and approached from behind, when Natasha held a finger up.

"Don't you even dare, Barton," she said, throwing him a playful look over her shoulder. Clint felt a tingle pass through him at that look. "My legs are sore from last night and you're insatiable."

He grinned, and, taking the challenge presented, took another few steps forward to run a hand over her hip. Natasha allowed the touch for a few moments, until she swiped out behind her to get him off. Years of knowing Natasha's body when she was ready to strike saved him from getting scratches on his stomach to match the ones on his back.

"Testy," Clint chuckled as he dared press a quick kiss on her neck, dodging just in time to not get smacked with her t-shirt.

"That's what happens when I get rudely woken up by your annoying alarm clock," she said, and he grinned.

"You massacred it, Nat," he laughed, nodding towards the sad heap of a clock in pieces by the wall.

"Tony will fix you a new one," she said with an eyeroll. He could see the smile tugging on Natasha's lips.

"You know I love you, clock killer and all," he said softly, and she looked at him over her shoulder, her green eyes bright.

"Yeah," she replied. They stood there, staring at each other for a while, and then Natasha cleared her throat a little. "I love you too."

Clint smiled at her.

"Yeah, I know."

"Good. Because I do."

"Wanna gush about me some more, or join me in the shower?" he asked teasingly, and Natasha huffed out a laugh.

"I showered yesterday, but you really need one. Go." When he didn't move, she swatted after him with the t-shirt again, and Clint hopped away, chuckling happily all the way to the bathroom.

\---

After getting Emma out of bed, into clothes, and fed, the two agents checked their packing one last time before shoving their bags into the black car that was taking them to the airport. Emma was sleepily leaning on Natasha's shoulder throughout the whole trip to the airport, and once they got there, she leaned on the luggage cart, almost asleep.

"Are you okay, Em?" Clint asked, fixing the cap on his head. Emma nodded and yawned.

"Layla was on a date with Aaron and wouldn't shut up about how amazing it was last night so I didn't get to sleep until like one-thirty," she said as Natasha put her sunglasses on. Emma's hood was up, and they looked decidedly less heroic than Hawkeye and Black Widow. Just the way they liked it.

"I thought she didn't want to date him," Clint said thoughtfully, and Emma hummed as they waved goodbye to Happy.

Natasha took the luggage cart from her, and Emma grumbled as she righted herself again.

"She didn't, until he asked her out, and they started texting and he called her once in the middle of the night and they talked 'til the sun went up," Emma said, rolling her eyes. "It was apparently a very romantic gesture. I'd probably be very pissy with Damian if he ever did that to me."

"Layla likes romance," Natasha shrugged as they walked through the revolving doors and into the ginormous entrance hall.

Emma stared at the big screens around her, and grasped Natasha's hand for a safe harbor, clinging to her hand as Clint took over the cart and got their bags checked in. So many people around her, and although Emma always enjoyed a crowd, this was a new kind. Businessmen in their suits with tiny bags on wheels speaking on their phones, a couple with skis in long bags, an older couple with wrinkly skin and sunhats, a huge crowd of teenagers a few years older than Emma, with matching shirts.

"Too much?" Natasha asked carefully as she looked down at Emma. Emma met her eyes.

"Just... New," she replied, and Natasha nodded, let her hold her hand. Clint smiled at the woman behind the desk, pulling out a couple of papers.

Soon enough they were ready to go, and Clint handed Emma her boarding card and her backpack.

"That's my name!" Emma said excitedly as she pointed to the boarding card. "They even put a 'ms' before my name!"

"They did?" Clint questioned, looking mildly surprised. "Huh. I didn't know they did that."

"It's because she's a minor," Natasha supplied. She glanced at her own boarding card and raised an eyebrow. "Seriously Clint?"

"What?" he asked innocently, and she turned it around to show him that it stood Mrs. Natasha Barton. He blinked, and looked up at her with wide blue eyes. "What about it?" Natasha remained silent and stared at him, watching him squirm a little. "It's not that big of a deal, Nat. It's just a name."

Natasha's gut clenched a little at the thought of being Mrs. Natasha Barton.

"For the record, I wouldn't change my name," Natasha said, poking him in the chest with the boarding card as they began walking towards security.

"Why not?" Clint asked. "I have a great last name."

"It'd be confusing on missions and impractical," she said, matter-of-factly.

"Emma's last name is Barton. Don't you like your last name, Em?" Clint asked their daughter, who was walking a couple of steps ahead of them, taking it all in.

"Huh?" she said, slowing down to walk between them.

"Don't you like Barton as a last name?" he asked her. Emma shrugged.

"It's short and easy to write. I like it," she said. "Emma Romanoff sounds pretty good too though." Natasha shot Clint a smug look. "Can we change my name to Emma Barton Romanoff?" The smug look turned shocked as she looked down into Emma's inquiring face.

"You'd want that?" Natasha asked incredulously.

"Well, yeah. I like your last name too," Emma announced.

"You realize that would give you six names to keep track of?" Clint pointed out as they approached security.

"That's not too different from five." Natasha smiled.

"We can change it," she promised, and Emma beamed at her.

"Awesome!"

\---

"I hate commercial," Natasha muttered as she was felt up for the fourth time. "You're holding my licence. I'm allowed to carry."

"I just want to make sure you don't have any more pieces on you," the security guard said, and Clint rolled his eyes.

He'd gotten through his check with his gun on him, but they wouldn't let Natasha pass.

Emma was staring at the spectacle from Clint's side, a finger hooked into his beltloop distractedly, as if stopping him from rushing forward.

"Alright, fuck it," Clint said, and whipped his phone out of his pocket, pressing a button. Coulson appeared on the screen. "Tell this asshole that Nat's allowed to carry her guns." He angled his phone toward the TSA agent, who ran his hands down Natasha's sides again.

"Hand me over," Coulson sighed, seemingly used to this. Clint turned it into an audio call instead of video, and handed his phone over to the TSA agent, who frowned as he held the phone to his ear. After a few moments of silence, he held a finger up to them, telling them to wait here as he disappeared into a room nearby. 

"You called Coulson?" Natasha accused.

"I was really close to punching him, and Coulson knows how to do that without actually doing it," Clint assured her.

It took a while, but when the TSA agent reappeared with Clint's phone, he looked mighty embarrassed, his face all red.

"Sorry for the misunderstanding, agent," he said, and handed the phone back to Clint. Natasha only put her shoes back on, not replying. Clint handed her her bag, and Natasha snatched her licence out of the TSA agent's hand, smiling sweetly at him.

"You should be very sorry," she told him coldly, still with that same smile.

"C'mon," Clint said, tugging on her arm to get her to leave it alone.

"What a dickcheese," Emma announced as they made their way towards the gates, and Natasha looked grim.

"That's handsy guys for you," she said, dragging her arm around Emma's shoulders.

"Guys like that make me very angry," Emma said with a huff.

"Think of them like that sexist eight-grader," Clint suggested.

"I get to punch them?" Emma asked as her eyes brightened.

"No," Clint chuckled. "No, you get to educate them."

"And punch them if they don't catch your drift and keep going," Natasha promised. Clint sighed as Emma grinned.

"I thought we were gonna work on toning down her more aggressive sides, not encourage them," he said, and Natasha slipped her other arm around his waist.

"I'm going to let this one aggressive tendency slide."

"Probably a bad idea."

"Undoubtedly," Emma piped up as they walked by a tax-free shop. "Holy crap, is that chocolate?"

They came to a stop as Emma slipped away into the tax-free store, and Natasha smiled as she patted Clint on the back.

"In you go," she said, and Clint grimaced like he was in pain.

"You realize she's gonna want tons of candy, right?" he said.

"Maximum two things, and then we can get her a McFlurry from McDonalds later," Natasha said with a distracted shooing motion as she pulled her phone out to text Coulson a thank you.

"Look at you, making deals and using bribery like a mom," Clint smirked, looking actually impressed. Natasha snorted.

"Stop stalling and go in there and make deals and bribe her like a dad before she scoops the entire candy section into her backpack," she said, giving him another nudge. Clint braced himself for Emma's puppy eyes and strode into the tax-free shop.

\---

Emma managed to deal her way into getting a big Toblerone, a pack of gummy worms, and something called a Big Baby Sour Pop, that was basically a lollipop shaped as a baby bottle with sour sugar in a container under it.

She was also happily licking ice cream from her McFlurry spoon, looking very pleased with herself. They were at the gate now, and Emma was watching a movie on her Starktab with her headphones in, crowded between her parents. Natasha, inwardly laughing, sighed.

"Weak," Natasha told Clint with a shake of her head, and Clint pointed an accusing finger her way.

"You _know_ what her puppy eyes do to me. You should be glad she didn't get half the store," Clint said, and Natasha's body was assaulted with silent laughter, and Clint grinned at her as he shook her head. "Her puppy eyes are killer."

"They are," Natasha agreed, and Clint flung his arm over Emma's head and onto the backrest, reaching over to squeeze Natasha's shoulder. She relished in the easiness of the action, and let herself lean into it, throwing watchful glances around.

After another forty-five minutes, the flight attendant behind the desk told them all through the speaker that they would begin boarding soon. Emma shut her Starktab down and shoved it in her bag as Clint yet again handed her the boarding card.

"Alright, this is how it goes down," Clint told her. "See that little machine there? You stick this code, right here, in under that, and you get to go in. Got it?" Emma nodded nervously as they shuffled forward in line with the other passengers.

"What do I do if it won't scan it?" Emma asked nervously.

"You pull it back and then stick back in under the red light again. It'll be fine," Clint assured her. She grabbed his jacket, but nodded, and he looked down on her. "Want me to do it before you?" She nodded again, and he nodded back. "You got it."

It came to be their turn, and Clint stuck the ticket in, smiling at the flight attendant. The light flashed green, and he walked through, waiting for Emma on the other side. She stuck her boarding card in under the light, and it flashed green, making an exhilarated smile appear on her face as she skipped through.

"That was weirdly fun," she said as she came to wait next to him for Natasha.

"Yeah?" he asked, smiling. God, she really got excited over the tiniest things. It was kind of like reliving things for the first time, getting to see her do it. When he'd taken her grocery shopping, she'd wanted to swipe his card through the reader like it was the coolest thing in the world.

Natasha came up to them, and they walked together through the small corridor towards the plane. They were greeted by a smiling flight attendant, and Emma yet again got that slightly overwhelmed look on her face as she took in the rows and tiny compartments.

"This is weird," she said as they found their seats. Clint shooed the two redheads in before him, and Emma took the window seat as Natasha ended up in the middle.

Emma got up on her knees in her seat, looking over the headrests through the whole airplane.

"It feels like we've been stuck in a tube," she remarked.

"We have," Natasha agreed as she flipped the page in her book.

"Is this optimal for flying?" Emma asked curiously. "The whole cylindrical shape? Because it doesn't seem like it is. The quinjets aren't cylinders."

"It's probably more comfortable for the passengers," Natasha shrugged, and Clint frowned at the way Emma was sitting.

"Sit down," Clint said and poked Emma's hip.

"I am sitting down," she pointed out.

"On your butt, you little snark," Clint said, and Emma settled back in with a wrinkled nose.

Finally they were boarded, and the plane started moving. When the plane began speeding up, Emma's eyes widened in shock, and she gripped the armrests. Natasha noticed the motion out of the corner of her eye, and reacted just in time.

"Don't grab the armrests," she said urgently as she rooted around in her bag, victoriously handing Emma a stress-ball.

"Genius," Clint said, a marveled look on his face. "What would I do without you?"

"Crash and burn," Natasha said as Emma frantically squeezed the ball, hyperventilating. "Relax, возлюбленный. Soon we'll be in the air."

They continued to soothe Emma until she giggled nervously.

"We're flying," she breathed.

"That we are," Clint smirked as Emma plastered her face to the window, looking amazed. Clint squeezed Natasha's thigh, and she smiled at him beautifully before going back to her book. Clint took a deep breath, and settled back in his chair for the ride.

\---

The flight was relatively short, only two hours and thirty minutes. Emma managed to sit still most of the flight by watching Supernatural and eating her gigantic Toblerone bar. When they landed, Emma found the thrill in being pushed back into her chair by the force of the airplane slowing down, just like Natasha thought she would.

When they got out of the airport with their bags, Natasha was ready to head for the taxis, when she saw a familiar car in the parking lot.

"You got someone to drive your car here?" Natasha asked incredulously, and Clint shrugged.

"Didn't want to take a cab," he said as they strolled over the parking lot towards the red pick-up.

"This one looks like your car at home, except it's red and a lot crappier," Emma remarked, and Natasha agreed with an eyebrow raise.

"Hey, this car isn't crappy," he said, sounding hurt as he grabbed the keys were they were hidden behind one of the wheels.

"It's definitely older," Natasha remarked.

"Let's hope she doesn't give up on us on the way," Clint said cheerily as they loaded their stuff into the truck. Emma rode in the back, and immediately called Tony to talk about airplanes.

After a quick stop at the grocery store for some essentials, they finally began their journey towards their final destination.

As soon as the farmhouse came into view, Clint felt conflicted. There was a love for his childhood home, mixed in with anger at what had gone down here. Then the fondness, the cherished moments he'd had with Natasha here, the way the sun beat down on his skin, the way he knew Nat would mock his farmer's tan when it came around. It was a jumble of emotions, but he took a deep breath as they pulled up on the dark driveway.

The farmhouse was two-story, a kitchen, dining room, bathroom, and living room on the bottom floor and three bedrooms and a bathroom on the floor above it. He saw immediately that he'd probably have to repaint the shutters, and that the blue of the door had faded significantly. Other than that, the farm had been taken care of by the farmhands. The lawn was mowed, the fields surrounding it was full with crops and cows.

"We're here," Clint said as he put the car into park. Emma opened her door and hopped out onto the grass, looking around them. It was getting late, almost dinnertime, but since it was Iowa and pretty much the middle of the summer, it was still very bright out. He got out too, the cardoor groaning as he slammed it shut again.

"You grew up here," Emma said as she stared at the farmhouse. Clint smiled wistfully as he stood next to her.

"Yeah. How'd you know?"

"Charlie- I mean, Barney told me about his little brother sometimes and about what a huge shit he was, and said that he'd gotten the farm they grew up on," she said softly. She looked up at Clint. "He also said I was a lot like his brother."

"He did, huh?"

"Yeah."

"He wasn't wrong," Natasha huffed as she threw her bag over her shoulder. "You're both equally unhelpful."

"Sorry!" Emma said, wide-eyed and innocent as she grabbed the grocery bags and her own bag.

"Mhm. Feel like being a good guy and fessing up to your own crimes?" Natasha aimed at Clint, who laughed as he grabbed the keys and his bag, along with another one of the grocery bags.

He unlocked the door and Emma tropped by him into the house.

"Whoa!" she said as Clint turned the lights on in the hall. Still the same yellow wallpaper with faded flowers. He tossed the keys into the bowl, and Emma peeked to the left into the dining room, then to the right into the living room. She strolled right into the kitchen, and bounded back through the arch from the kitchen to the dining room to look at them. "This is nice."

"Nice?" Clint questioned as he walked into the kitchen and heaved the grocery bag up on the kitchen counter. Emma swept by him over to the bathroom, flipping the light on.

"It's... Home-y," she said thoughtfully. "I don't think I've ever seen a house like this."

"You're a city slicker," Clint snorted as he began to unpack the grocery bag, putting the milk into the fridge. Natasha grabbed his bag and began walking up the stairs.

"Am not!" Emma said indignantly as she came back into the kitchen. She bounded back to the door for the heavy grocery bags and put them up on the counter next to him as if they didn't weigh a thing. "I've lived with the circus."

"So have I. I'm still a country boy, deep down," Clint said. He pulled the poptarts out of one bag, and pointed to the pantry. "That goes in there."

Emma put the box of poptarts into the pantry, and then disappeared through the arch to the dining room, only to cross the hallway into the living room.

"Please tell me there's wifi?" Emma asked from the living room, and Clint grinned as Natasha came back down the stairs.

"There isn't," she said, and there was a noise of pure agony from the living room. Natasha slid up next to him, and took the things on the counter to the cupboard. "I put our things in the big bedroom. You should take Emma up and get her set up."

The last sentence was accompanied by a discreetly pointed look. The other two bedrooms on the upper floor was his and Barney's old ones. He had barely set foot in them since he got the house. Clint took a breath and nodded, before he grabbed Emma's bag from the hall.

"Let's go upstairs," he encouraged, and Emma peeked out from the living room. 

"The couch is soft," she told him, and he nodded. 

"It's really old. Probably older than you," he said as she took the stairs two at a time, using both her hands and feet to get up. She probably wasn't used to stairs after all of the elevator riding they'd been doing for the past year.

"Seriously? Can things even get that old and not fall apart?" she asked as the door to Natasha's and Clint's room appeared. 

"Oh yeah, totally," he said. "Alright. This is where Nat and I are bunking. There's the bathroom." He pointed to the door across the hall, and lead Emma towards one of the other bedrooms. He glanced at his door, and mentally shook his head as he pushed the door open.

"This is Barney's old room," Clint said as flicked the light on. "His old bed is a lot bigger than my old bed. At least I know you'll fit in this one."

Barney's room had two windows, one by the foot of the bed, and one on the short wall of it. Neither of them had ever been very good at school stuff, so no trophies littered the shelves, only some tiny metal soldiers and old books Barney probably had only flipped through. The bed wasn't wide, but it was bigger than Emma's at least. The walls were light blue, bleached by the permanent sunlight. Some wrinkled old posters were on the wall too, faded and dusty. A picture in a tattered frame was on the nightstand, along with a lamp. 

Of course, the first thing Emma did was zero in on the picture. She picked it up and cooed. 

"Aw, baby you!" she said, and Clint dropped her bag on the floor to look over her shoulder. 

Indeed, that was him, probably around five years old, sitting on the porch with Barney, his mother sitting behind them with a big smile. He looked a lot more like his mother than Barney did, who was very much like their father, with his deep blue eyes and redish-brown hair. Their mother had pale blonde hair, and such blue eyes they almost looked grey. The picture was faded, but he could still see a bruise peeking out from under his mother's t-shirt, and just looking at it made his blood boil. 

"Yeah," Clint breathed, and Emma smiled up at him.

"You were a cute kid."

"Mm. I was, wasn't it?" He took the picture from her, and she hopped onto the bed. "I'll go get you some sheets."

"Alright. What's for dinner?" Emma asked as she kicked her legs against the bedframe. Clint tapped the frame against his other hand.

"Nat's fixing dinner, so probably spaghetti carbonara. You know, the pasta with bacon and that sauce you like?" Emma hummed a yum as Clint slipped out of the room towards the linen closet. The door to his room was cracked open, and he opened the door just a little more, to toss the pictureframe onto his old bed.

He didn't even glance inside before shutting the door resolutely.

\---

 


	2. Wasp Nests And Unexpected Gifts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life on the farm is pretty much everything but hard. The chillest of the chillest experiences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seeing as I'm absolutely INCAPABLE of making things short with these people, this will have three chapters instead of two. More fluff, enough to make you say some aww's and maybe even a d'aww or two. Hope you like it!  
> Enjoy! <3

Day four on the farm, and the day before Emma's birthday, and they were all settling in. Clint was a little antsy, but he busied himself with fixing things up on the farm, with Emma usually trailing after him asking him how things worked. She'd almost had a freak out when she found out that they had cows, and had then promptly spent the entire afternoon in the pasture petting cows. Clint had to drag her out of there for dinner.

The farmhands still took care of the farm, but Clint went out to lend a hand most mornings. Today though, it was way too hot for that, and they were enjoying a quiet afternoon in the sun. Emma had insisted on getting a kiddie pool to soak in, and that was inflated and on the other side of the lawn. Natasha was on the porch in the shade, and Clint had taken it upon himself to teach Emma how to throw a baseball without killing someone with it.

Sipping her lemonade, Natasha flipped the page of the magazine she was supposed to be reading, but instead of reading about whatever new gadget Tony was making, she was admiring Clint's muscled back as he launched the baseball at Emma, who had to jump to catch it. 

"That was a terrible throw!" Emma called at him from the other side of the lawn, and Clint laughed. 

"You're just too short!" he called back, and Emma fixed his old baseballcap on her head with a hrmph. She threw the ball, and Clint caught it with a smack when the ball hit the leather of the glove. "That was a good throw! Do that again." 

He tossed it back to her, a nice throw this time, and Emma geared up before launching it right at Clint. He grabbed that one out of the air, and Natasha could practially hear his grin. He could be so childish sometimes. 

It was Clint who, despite being distracted, noticed the car first. He caught the ball Emma threw at him, and stared at the driveway.

"Nat," he said, and Natasha refocused on the driveway, immediately getting up with her hand on her gun, that was tucked into the back of her shorts under her shirt.

Emma turned to look as well as the car drove up, and Clint put his hands on his hips, relaxing a little. 

"It's okay," he called back at her, and Natasha gave him a quizzical look. "I know 'em."

The entire car came into view, a blue Pontiac rolling up the dusty road. It squeaked into park behind Clint's truck, and a tall man with charcoal hair got out of the truck with a big grin. He had a gap between his two front teeth, and looked good in a light blue t-shirt and shorts. He had a scruffy beard, a large nose, and his blue eyes were friendly. 

"Clint!" he called, and Clint jogged over to him, grabbing his hand to pull him into one of those manly hugs with pats on the back. 

"Jimmy!" Clint replied happily. Emma just stood there, curiously looking at this random stranger. Clint stuck his hand out towards her, beckoing her closer, telling her that it was safe. "C'mere kiddo."

Emma tossed her glove on the ground and began walking over the grass on her bare feet. Natasha decided that this needed further investigation, and strolled off the porch towards their little gathering. 

Just as she arrived, Clint wrapped a sweaty arm over Emma's shoulders. 

"Jimmy, this is my kid, Emma," he said as Emma made a disgusted noise and shoved his arm off of herself. 

"You stink of sweat," Emma told him, wiping her shoulder off with a wrinkled nose. Clint grinned, and his eyes twinkled. 

"Gotta enjoy the sun while you can," he said, and booped her on her cutely wrinkled nose. Emma made a disgruntled noise, and Jimmy smiled at Natasha pleasantly. 

"And you're the missus?" he inquired, and Natasha stuck her hand out. 

"Nat Barton," she smiled, testing out how it felt. Clint looked dazzled for a moment, until his expression switched to smugness.

"Jimmy Crawford, how are you, ma'm," he said politely as he shook Natasha's hand. 

"I'm fine, thank you," she replied. "How do you two know each other?"

"We're old buddies. My mom and his mom used to be tight," Jimmy said with a crooked grin and scratched the back of his neck sheepishly.

"I'm not old, you're old," Clint said with a playful punch to his shoulder. Jimmy smiled a boyish grin, and Natasha wanted to roll her eyes, but restrained herself. 

"You're pretty old too," Emma remarked, and Clint gave her a shocked look. 

"Am not! I'm in the prime of my life, I'll have you know," he said, and Emma laughed and grabbed his beltloop distractedly, like a little kid.

"Layla thinks thirty is old, and you're over thirty," she pointed out, and Clint shook his head at her. 

"Y'know, Layla isn't always right."

"Most of the times." Clint rolled his eyes fondly and smiled at Jimmy. 

"So, how's Christine?" he asked. Jimmy huffed fondly. 

"Hating my guts a little right now," he smiled, getting a wistful expression on his face. "She's six months pregnant and telling me it's all my fault before breaking into tears and apologizing. It's a whirlwind of emotions, honestly."

"Six months pregnant, huh? Wow," Clint beamed. "Look at you, building a family." Jimmy smiled proudly. 

"Hell yeah. Speaking of family, I don't remember hearing anything about you," he said, looking down at Emma. 

"That's because I'm adopted," she told him helpfully. Jimmy's eyebrows rose in surprise, but then he smiled at her. 

"Oh? You look a lot like these two for them not to be your biological parents," he said. Emma showed off her pearly whites in a big smile. 

"I know," she told him proudly, and let go of Clint's belt loop to put her hands on her hips. 

"So, is this just a quick drop-by or do you wanna stay for dinner?" Natasha offered. Jimmy shook his head. 

"I heard Clint was in town, just wanted to stop by, so no, thank you though. I have a wife and half a dozen kittens to get home to," Jimmy said with a happy sigh. Emma blinked at him inquisitively. 

"Kittens?" she asked, looking incredibly like Natasha in the way she zeroed in on his face like a predator watching it's prey. 

"Yeah. Our cat just had kittens, about about a month ago. If you'd like to come over, check it out, I bet they'd love that," he said, giving Emma smile. She aimed her big eyes at Natasha and Clint, who traded a look. 

Thanks Jimmy, we'll swing by later this week. Tell Christine I said hi," he said, and Jimmy nodded as he got back into his car, waving as he backed down the driveway. 

"Jimmy?" Natasha asked as Emma ran over to the kiddiepool to dip her feet in the water.

"Good guy. Squeaky clean, too," Clint muttered as he picked Emma's glove off the ground and pulled his off too. 

"How many precautions do you think we have to take for Emma not to sneak one of the kittens home with her when we go visit?" Natasha asked with a fond sigh as they looked over at Emma, now completely preoccupied with running over the sun-warmed rocks to the porch without burning her feet. 

"I suggest we say we have to look fancy, and have her wear a skirt. Let's see her try pulling the disappearing cat trick then," Clint said triumphantly, and Natasha hummed, a hum that sounded pleased with him. 

"If she manages to pull it off, I'll actually be surprised at how many times she got caught pick-pocketing."

"Hopefully she hasn't gotten that much sneakier."

"She definitely has."

"Shit."

\---

After dinner, Clint managed to coax the two redheads into helping him paint the shutters. He got Emma to do it by telling her she could take the ones on the second floor, hence putting her on the roof, and got Natasha to help by pleading. A lot. And promising that he would eat her out like he was having his last meal on death row when they were done.

Emma had been handed a brush and a can of paint and had crawled out of Barney's bedroom window to run around on the tiles there, while Natasha and Clint stood on the porch underneath her. 

Humming a familiar rock tune, Clint stroked the paint over the wood in even strokes, with Natasha coating the shutter next to his in blue. He reached down to dip his brush into the paint, and came face to face with Natasha's bare legs. They were decidedly more tan now, and he twisted his grip on the brush a little as he considered how to survive flicking paint at that flawless golden skin.

Natasha saw the motion out of the corner of her eye, and took a sharp breath

"Don't you dare," Natasha said, holding her brush up like a sword. "Don't you _dare_."

"What?" Clint asked innocently as he stood up, and Natasha stared him down. 

"They will not find your body if you flick paint at me."

"I wasn't gonna!"

"I won't sleep with you for a month, Clinton. I mean it," she said, and Clint smiled a boyish grin. 

"I won't," he promised, hands raised in surrender. Natasha's eyes narrowed at him, before going back to painting. He took a moment to just watch her. Her red hair was up in a messy bun, and her mouth had that pinch to it that told him she was concentrating. The fading sunlight was playing on her exposed legs beautifully, and she was wearing a maroon tank top that looked disgustingly good on her. 

There was already a fleck of paint on her cheek, and Clint bit his lip as he set his brush down on the edge of the can. 

He reached out for Natasha, grabbing her chin gently. She raised an eyebrow at him in question, and he swallowed. 

"You have paint on your cheek," he said, reaching out to wipe the paint off with his thumb. It was just a little dot, too small to leave a mark on her soft skin. He cradled her face in his hand, and gave her forehead a gentle kiss. 

"All gone," he said quietly, gazing into her eyes, and Natasha smiled softly at him. 

"There's a nest of something up here and I don't wanna touch it!" came Emma's yell from above them, and Clint closed his eyes to gather strength as Natasha pulled away, laughing quietly. 

"What color is it?" he yelled back, and Emma peeked over the edge of the roof, her hair looking like an unruly, red broom. 

"Grey? Does that matter?" she asked, tilting her head to the side.

"Don't fall off, I'm sending Nat up with you," he said, and Natasha scoffed. 

"Hell no. You take care of the bugs," she frowned.

"What? Why should I do it?"

"You're the big manly man," Natasha said drily with an overdramatic swoon, and Clint put his hands on his hips.

"You're using sexism to get out of doing something, really?"

"I also don't like killing bugs. They're just doing what they know how to do."

"They're vermin, Nat."

"Just go kill the bugs. I won't have any part in it," she said and dipped her brush in paint. Clint planted a quick kiss on her shoulder, and Emma giggled happily. 

"Alright, watch out, here comes the manly man to take care of the bugs," Clint huffed as he heaved himself up on the railing and used it as a springboard to crawl onto the roof. Emma's hair disappeared with him, and Natasha let herself grin as she finished painting Clint's shutter. 

\---

"How's it going?" Bucky smiled from the other side of the screen, and Emma grinned. She was sitting in the couch, a tub of the local ice cream in her lap, when Bucky had vidcalled her on the tablet. 

"It's going great! We're having tons of fun! I'll probably get to visit kittens before this trip is over, and I consider that a win alone," she said with a wave of her spoon. 

"Kittens?" came Darcy's shout, and Emma laughed. 

"Yeah, Darcy, kittens," she said, as Darcy joined Bucky on the couch. He swung his arm around her without being asked, and Emma smiled at that. 

"I demand pictures," Darcy said matter of factly. Emma snorted. 

"Obviously. I'm not sure when we'll see them, probably not tomorrow, but sometime before we leave."

"What are your plans for tomorrow then?" Darcy asked with a wiggle of her eyebrows. Emma shrugged. 

"I dunno. Nothing, probably. Not making a big fuss out of my birthday, so we'll probably just hang around here."

"Isn't the whole trip about making you like your birthday?" Darcy questioned. 

"I thought that was the whole point," Bucky added. Emma furrowed her eyebrows and dug around in the carton of ice cream. It was called 'rainbow', and was disgustingly tasty. 

"What? No. Why would I need to like my birthday?" 

"People like celebrating birthdays, doll," Bucky shrugged. 

"But I didn't do anything the day I was born," Emma protested. "I was just born. That's not special at all in this world. Like a million babies get born every day."

"I'd celebrate you being born," Bucky said, looking dead serious. 

"Well, you're biased," Emma said with a wave of her spoon. 

"Your parents want to celebrate it. Your friends want to celebrate it. It's because they like that you came into the world. Sometimes you just gotta accept that. Liking birthdays is just a plus."

"I'll remind you you said that when people find out when your birthday is," Emma said through a mouthful of ice cream. She waved towards Darcy. "Does she know?"

"March tenth," Darcy smiled at her, and Emma nodded. 

"Cool, cool. So, has Damian come busting down the door trying to find out where I am?" she asked. 

"You haven't called him?" Darcy asked, seeming genuinely baffled. Emma shrugged. 

"He's a little too smart to call. We're at a pretty secret place and he likes finding out secrets."

"Have you checked your bag for bugs?" Bucky asked. Darcy shot him a surprised look. 

"Damian would do that?"

"He's an insistent little twig," Bucky shrugged. Emma smiled. 

"Yeah, I have. No bugs. His insistence is endearing in a way," she smiled. "Maybe I'll call him tomorrow."

"How are you calling Bucky?" Darcy asked. 

"It's a secure call with a kind of signal redirector," Emma said with a shrug. "It makes this kind of call very hard to track unless you feel like wading through tons of bullshit and then getting to a satellite that doesn't work."

"Stark's thing," Bucky said with an approving nod. Emma smirked. 

"Yeah. So unless anyone wants to call Damian, get him over to the tower, and then hand him this handy dandy device, I'm not gonna be able to reach him." Darcy hummed. 

"That would be weird. Do you even have internet over there?" 

"Not very good internet. Enough for mom to be able to check her e-mail if she stands on the dining room table," Emma grinned. That had been a thrilling morning, coming down the stairs to find Natasha on her tip-toes on the dining table, with her phone in the air. "No wifi though. It's kind of soul-sucking, but I've also been taught how to throw baseballs without breaking hands and painted shutters. It's been freakishly normal and weird and I kinda love it."

"Only kinda?" Bucky smiled, a tiny twist of the lips that made Emma ache with happiness. He'd come so far from having to be dragged into conversation by her and Steve. She felt the need to run a hand through his hair in a sudden fit of affection for him.

"I miss wifi," Emma sighed. "But I miss you more." Bucky smiled. 

"Miss you too, doll," he said softly. "Call me tomorrow?"

"Promise I will," Emma nodded. "Bye Darcy."

"Bye, Em," Darcy smiled, and the call cut off just before Darcy's lips came in contact with Bucky's cheek in a comforting kiss.

Emma stood up from the couch and drifted into the kitchen to put her spoon in the sink and the tub in the freezer.

In the dining room, Natasha and Clint were sitting, snacking on their own ice cream. They were talking, smiling, and Emma felt warm all over when she saw them like that. Clint's tanned hands had blue stains all over, and they cradled his tub, while Natasha's smoother hands were on the wooden table. Emma lingered in the doorway, and the two looked up to smile at her. 

"Hey Em. Tucking in?" Clint asked, and Emma nodded.

"Yeah. Are you guys going to stay up?" she asked as she leaned in the doorframe. 

"A little while longer," Natasha nodded. 

"Alright," Emma said, biting her lip. "You guys know I love you, right?"

Surprise passed over both of their faces, and then Natasha smiled into her ice cream as Clint bit his lip to stave off the big grin. 

"Yeah. We know."

"Go to bed, возлюбленный," Natasha said gently. "We'll be up in a moment." Emma nodded and dashed up the stairs, minding the creaky steps. "Do you think that'll ever stop feeling like a surprise?" Natasha asked quietly. 

"Maybe when she's older. Probably not," Clint laughed quietly and dragged a hand through his hair. "It's crazy. We were crazy when we took her in."

"We were. Best crazy decision we've ever made," Natasha murmured. 

\---

The morning of July 21st, Natasha and Clint woke up earlier than usual, and gathered all of the things they would be needing. When the presents were piled on a tray, Natasha pulled the cupcake out of the fridge and set it down on the counter for later. 

"Think she'll hate us?" Clint whispered as they climbed the stairs silently.

"No," Natasha murmured as they made their way down the hall towards the room Emma was sleeping in. Clint still couldn't really bring himself to call it her room just yet.

They gathered their collective breaths by the door, and then Natasha gently nudged it door open, nodding at Clint.

Softly, the two agents began singing 'Happy Birthday', rising in volume as soon as the lump underneath the sheets began moving. Emma rolled over to blearily look at them just as Clint cheered a 'happy birthday'.

She smiled at them, sleepy and soft as she rubbed her eyes.

"G'morning," she mumbled as she sat up in bed.

"Happy birthday, возлюбленный," Natasha murmured as she swept some of Emma's clothes off of the chair by the bed and sat down. She stroked her hair, and Emma yawned.

"Thanks. What's all this?" She nodded towards the tray in Clint's lap, nearly overflowing with presents.

"You think this is all from us? We were gonna give you maybe four presents, and then everyone else decided that they were gonna get you tons of presents, so here you are," he chuckled and carefully maneuvered the tray into Emma's lap.

She furrowed her eyebrows.

"You're shitting me. This is all for me?" she asked, her eyes shining with awe.

"All yours," Natasha smiled.

"And breakfast, when you're up for it," Clint said. Emma blew a strand of red hair out of her face and glanced between the two of them. After some consideration, she transferred the tray to the bed, closer to the wall.

Launching out of the bed like a big cat, Emma threw her arms around Clint's neck, who laughed as he patted her back, hugging her back.

"Thank you," she said, before throwing herself over Natasha too, who smiled and huffed a breath into her messy hair.

"Go on. Open them," she urged, and Emma hopped back into her bed, eyes shining as they grazed over the heap of presents.

"That's a lot of presents," she remarked. Clint fell down on his side on her bed, propping his head up with his elbow.

"Uh-huh," he smiled, as Emma grabbed one of them, a small box wrapped in red.

"That's from Tony and Steve," Clint said. Emma watched it suspiciously, and shook it carefully.

"Do you think it'll explode if I open it?"

"There's a possibility," Clint laughed, and Emma smirked before she tilted her head to read the note scribbled on the side in Steve's nice handwriting.

"Happy fourteenth birthday, love Steve, Tony, and Peter," she read out loud. Underneath that, there was a scrawl that was much messier, and definitely Tony's. "P.S. totally safe and basic gift." She snickered at that, and began ripping the paper.

Inside was a box that said 'Modular Space Science Kit' with a little post it from Tony on it.

_Steve made me get a basic one, but show this to Jane and you'll have some real fun_

Emma laughed as she read the back of it. It was twelve tiny pieces that could be combined for different experiments, and Emma was feeling giddy just at the thought of getting Jane to take a look at it.

"Awesome," she declared, putting the box down with care next to her on the bed before moving on to the next present.

That one was from Clint and Natasha, a custom-made phone case with one of Emma's favorite pictures on it. The focus of the picture was Emma using Bucky's hair as a beard, and in the background, Clint and Natasha were pressed against a wall, not actually kissing, but dodging Darcy as she came flailing by. Her hair was up, and she was holding Jane's phone in the air, with Jane a step behind her with a vicious look on her face. Bruce was sitting in the couch, looking green in the face, and next to him was Tony, with just the hand of his Iron Man suit on. He was aiming said hand towards Darcy in alarm, and Thor was pressing his face to the window from the outside as Steve stood on the ladder to pick Peter off the roof.

That had been a... Very crazy morning.

Emma laughed and hugged the two of them before snapping it onto her phone.

In the next gift she opened, which was from Bucky, she got an Addams family series collection, and a quick note on a cute card that said she was gonna buckle down to watch it with him as soon as they came back, and from Darcy a replica of Dean's necklace from Supernatural. Bruce gave her a Bluetooth speaker in white and blue, and Jane had gotten her ripped jeans, just the way she wanted them to be.

She got a leather jacket from Natasha, a pair of Raybans with lenses that were tinted blue from Clint, and a heavy book from Thor. It was packed with stories from Asgard, and Emma's eyes widened as she flipped to the middle of the page.

"This is amazing! This book is super duper old!" she exclaimed as she fingered the old, worn pages.

"Is that actually from Asgard?" Clint questioned.

"Oh, hell yeah, this is from Asgard. Oh cool, this part is in that old dialect of Swedish," she mumbled, skimming that part of the page.

"Are we sure no Asgardian monsters are going to come popping out of that book?" Clint asked dubiously. Emma held a finger up and reached over to the nightstand to retrieve a ring with a black gem in it, putting it on. It was that ring she'd gotten from Thor for Christmas, the one that used to be Lady Sif's.

"Now I'll be fine," she told him. "I promise I'll save you if anything comes out of the book."

"Thanks," Clint smiled.

She put the book aside and pulled a package from Clint out of the pile. Natasha smiled at the positively giddy look on her lover's face as Emma curiously ripped the paper off.

"What's this?" Emma asked as she pulled the white box into her lap, looking intrigued.

"It's a lava lamp," Clint smirked pridefully, and Natasha only restrained from rolling her eyes because she knew Emma would love the lava lamp just as much as Clint did.

"What does it do?" she asked, eyebrows furrowed.

"Pull it out of the box and I'll show you," Clint said with a smile, and Emma did as she was told, as Clint plugged the lamp in. "It might take a little while, so you can keep going with the presents for a while." Emma looked at the lamp with a sharp look, as if willing it to go faster, but grabbed another present.

It was from Layla the card said, to her surprise.

"Hey, how did this get in here?" she asked, looking shocked as she glanced between her parents.

"Your friends had a little talk with us," Natasha said with a small smile. "They were disappointed when they found out they wouldn't be able to celebrate your birthday, and demanded that we bring you their presents."

"With Layla as their spokesperson?" she questioned with a laugh, feeling love blossom in her chest at the thought of her friends.

"Do you honestly think TJ and Hope would demand things from us?" Clint chuckled.

"Maybe Hope, if she was having one of her good-confidence days. When she has those, one might as well just bow down to her," she said as she ripped the pink wrapping paper open, to find a beginners make-up kit. "I'm going to take this as a hint that Layla wants to teach me how to put on make-up. Awesome."

She ripped another package open, this one from Hope, to find a grey sweater that said 'LITERALLY'. Emma had a laugh at that one, and reminded herself to hang out with Hope soon so that she could hug her.

"It's kind of a joke in my friend circle," Emma explained as she saw the little heart Hope had drawn on the tag by the hood.

TJ's gift contained a bracelet she could tell the triplets had helped make. It had pearls spelling her name out, and it was very sweet. She put it on immediately, and moved onto a smooth black box, with a single white bow, and a white card.

Clint smirked at the way her face lit up when she stared at the package. "That one is from-"

"Damian," Emma finished, and smiled gently. "I know. It's the only one with a real card. How did he sneak his present in here?"

"He asked if he could," Natasha said as she leaned back in the chair.

"Nicely?" Emma questioned, looking surprised as she investigated the present.

"Surprisingly nicely," Clint nodded.

"Whoa. That's almost a gift in itself," she hummed as she opened the card.

There was a picture in it that she distinctively remembered taking during New Years, all of her friends smushed into one picture in their fancy clothes. It had been taken after the hide-and seek, but before the fireworks, so Emma only had one shoe on, and Damian's shirt had been unbuttoned, but they were both grinning, at each other rather than the camera. Layla was fixing her hair in the picture, and Hope was talking, mouth open. TJ was talking to Tim over everyone's heads. He couldn't do that anymore. Layla was catching up to his height, much like Damian was.

The picture was perfectly imperfect, and she grinned at it.

On the back stood the date and their names in a handwriting that was probably Alfred's rather than Damian's.

_Happy Birthday //Damian_ , it said in Damian's curved letters on the card, and there was a hesitant little heart next to it that made her stomach flutter.

Knowing he was more of an 'actions' guy than a 'words' guy, she hastily lifted the cover on the black box and stared at it's contents.

The shirt was grey, with two words printed in black on it: Gotham Knights. She knew before she even touched it that it would smell like Damian, and distantly wondered who was fueling who's obsession: his obsession with having her dressed in his clothes, or her obsession with the way his clothes smelled.

Underneath the shirt was a drawing of herself, draped over the back of a chair with a grin on her face, and flowers in her hair. Not roses this time, but the kind of flowers you'd find in a meadow. It was even done in colors, and she stopped herself from tracing the crinkles of her eyes as she smiled that she'd never really reflected upon. 

And, because Damian was after all the son of a billionaire, a slim velvet box was hiding underneath that.

In the box was a surprisingly simple necklace, a small silver heart covered in tiny gems Emma hoped wasn't real diamonds. No such luck. 

"I don't even know when his birthday is," Emma sighed. "I'll never be able to give anything cool like this to him either."

"I'm pretty sure he doesn't want you to," Natasha said. Emma bit her lip.

"I would've been just as happy with just the drawing and the t-shirt."

"I'm sure he knows that and wanted to give you the necklace anyways. Do you want me to put it on for you?" Emma touched the swallow hanging by her clavicles, and nodded.

Natasha helped Emma get the other necklace off, and then admired the new necklace. The necklace was expensive, but not ridiculously so. She'd seen gaudier gifts.

As soon as the heart pendant was resting on her chest, she grabbed it lightly.

"There! Look at the lamp," Clint said, and Emma turned around just in time to see the first blob move. Her eyes widened, and immediately she'd scooted closer to it.

" **Told you she'd love it** ," Clint signed, and Natasha smiled secretively as she watched the two of them get excited about the blobs moving, shaking her head to herself.

\---


	3. Drive-In's And Kisses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I know I keep making this longer, but it's not gonna be that much longer. I swear. I'm trying to keep it moderately short.   
> Also, sorry for not updating in a while, I've been on vacation and I've had very little time to write.   
> Anyways, enjoy! <3

The lava lamp traveled down to the kitchen with them, and Emma devoured her cupcake pretty much immediately. They settled down to eat some pancakes, and Emma attacked her pancake with her special brand of ferocity. 

"So, what do you want to do today? It's your own special day," Clint said, biting into his French toast. Emma chewed thoughtfully on her pancake.

"Are drive-in movies a thing?" she asked. Natasha's eyebrows rose. 

"You want to go to a drive-in," she stated rather than questioned, and Emma blinked. 

"Well... They go to the drive-in in Grease, and I really loved Grease, so I mean." Emma shrugged, stabbing her pancake. 

"There's a drive-in in the next town over," Clint said after some thought. "They have a big mall in the same town. It's not New York big, but it's pretty big. We could go there, I guess?"

"That sounds cool," Emma agreed. "And tomorrow, we're going to see the kittens."

"You've decided that already, huh," Clint grinned. Natasha flipped another pancake onto Emma's plate with a small smile. 

"Yup," Emma declared. She hesitated, and then bit her lip shyly. "I'm the birthday girl. I get to decide."

"That's all I wanna hear," Clint smirked. Natasha brushed a hand over Emma's hair as she turned the stove off, sitting down by the two. "Anything else you wanna declare, let's hear it now."

"I really, really, really want to call Damian," she said with a firm nod. "I know I can't, but that doesn't mean I don't want to."

"I'm sure he's going nuts wanting to call you too," Natasha said. 

"Well, that's not really reassuring at all."

"We'll be back home in a couple of days," Clint promised. "Then you can call him and hang out."

"Maybe I can drag all of my friends to the park, so I can thank them for the nice things they got me," Emma said, twirling the pearls with letters on them on her bracelet. 

"That's usually what birthday parties are for," Natasha pointed out as Clint held out a raspberry to her. She stared at it for a second, noticing the absent-minded gesture. She was getting comfortable here, in this little fantasy world where nobody needed saving and Emma had a kiddie pool and played baseball with Clint. 

"Don't want it?" he asked, and Natasha noticed that she'd stared at the raspberry for too long, and that Emma was doing the tilt and squint thing she'd always pinned on Clint and Kate as a bird-like gesture of confusion. Natasha swallowed hard, and reached out for the raspberry, popping it in her mouth carefully. 

Emma accepted that as the end of that weird little escapade, but Clint furrowed his eyebrows a little in concern, and stroked a warm, calloused hand down Natasha's spine. A reassuring gesture. 

Bucky called when they'd all gotten dressed and ready to leave, so Emma settled down in the couch in her summer dress with the tablet in hand. 

"Clint! Can you braid my hair?" Emma called, and Clint appeared with a hair-tie. 

"You got it, buttercup," he smiled, sighing when he sat down on the couch, moving Emma down to sit on the floor in front of him.

"I wanna be Blossom," Emma said as she tilted her head back, letting him settle on some strands of her hair. 

"What?"

"Really?" Bucky said from the tablet, looking mildly surprised. "Powerpuff girls? Blossom, Buttercup, Bubbles?"

"He's not as well-versed in good shows as you are," Emma shrugged.

"Obviously not," Bucky scoffed. 

"You make it sound like this is something grave I've missed out on," Clint said, furrowing his brows in concentration as he tightened the hold a little on her hair. 

"Careful Bubbles, your ego is showing," Emma coaxed, and Bucky flashed her a smile looking down at himself. 

"Huh? What? Where?" Bucky said theatrically. Emma giggled, and Clint smiled too. 

"Which one is green and grumpy?" he asked Emma, tilting her head further down to get at the hairs at the nape of her neck. 

"Buttercup," she replied. 

"That's you, then. You always wear that green shirt and you're pretty grumpy, old man," Clint said, aimed at the tablet in Emma's hands. 

"Ha, ha," Bucky said with an eyeroll, prompting a grin from Emma. "How's it going out there in the middle of nowhere?" 

"How do you know we're in the middle of nowhere?" Clint asked. 

"You don't have wifi, and Emma told me about the cows. Which means it's gotta be in the middle of nowhere."

"Well, you're not wrong."

"We're going to a drive-in today," Emma told him excitedly, and Bucky rolled over where he was in his bed to lean the tablet against his headboard. 

"Like the one in Grease?" 

"Yup. Except I don't have anyone to make out with. Clint and Nat do though." Clint chuckled as he fixed the hair-tie at the end of his creation. 

"We're probably not gonna make out." Bucky snorted. 

" _Probably_ ," he remarked. Emma smiled happily. 

"What's with the hold-up?" Natasha questioned as she swept into the room, hair up and green eyes flashing with impatience. 

"We were just chatting with Bucky about the Powerpuff Girls," Clint explained. 

"Nat is definitely Blossom," Bucky said. 

"Clint is Bubbles, you're Buttercup, oh my _god_ , I have my own personal Powerpuff troop," Emma exclaimed happily.

There was a stunned silence, and then Bucky huffed. 

"I resent that," he said, and Emma laughed happily. Bucky smiled as Clint squeezed the back of Emma's neck comfortingly. "Happy birthday, kiddo."

"Thanks," she smiled, blushing a little. 

"Oh, right. Damian called," Bucky told her. Emma's eyes widened. 

"What did he say?" she asked intently, and he wrinkled his nose. 

"I'm not your answering machine, doll."

"Bucky!"

"Fine. He asked if you were fine."

"And what did you say?"

"I didn't say anything, I didn't pick up the phone."

"Well, who did?!" Emma demanded. Natasha leaned against the doorjamb, closing her eyes. This was gonna take a while.

"Bruce?" Bucky said questioningly. He frowned, and thought back. "I... I don't remember."

"You don't remember?" Emma asked, looking a little more careful now. Panic flicked over Bucky's face for a moment, and he swallowed. 

"No," he said, his voice a monotone as he fought to keep himself under control. Emma clutched the tablet a little tighter, and Natasha's eyes snapped open. She moved from the doorjamb, not sitting down but looking at the screen in Emma's lap.

"Okay," she said firmly but gently. "Can you go get Darcy?" Bucky nodded stiffly, getting out of bed with the tablet in hand. Darcy came out of the bathroom, still in a towel, and she gave him a smile, that quickly turned into a concerned frown. 

"What's up?" she asked him, same careful tone Emma was using. Clint watched with fascination as Darcy's light eyes met Emma's, and she calmed her features. 

"Who picked up the phone yesterday?" Bucky asked, his voice tense and intent. Darcy tilted her head and flicked a hand through her wet, dark hair, unsticking it from the back of her neck. 

"I did, when Pepper called and said she wanted to announce something when everyone got back. You did, when Damian called." Understanding lit up Darcy's eyes, and Emma's fingers traced the edges of the screen, as if she was aching to do the same to Bucky's undoubtedly furrowed eyebrows. 

"I did?" he said, uncertainly. Darcy nodded. 

"Yesterday was the 20th of July. You and I were in the common room when the phone rang. You got up and answered and when you were done with the call, you brought me a Pepsi. We were watching Friends and you commented on how Paul the Wine Guy was such a dick," Darcy said clearly, staring into his eyes. Bucky was silent, and after a few moments, Darcy reached for the tablet, and seated Bucky down on the bed, flashing a dazzling smile at Emma. "Hey sugarbabe."

"Hi," Emma said with a small smile. 

"Happy birthday," she said soothingly. Emma grumbled. 

"I didn't do anything when I was born," she argued, and Darcy smiled wider. 

"Sweetcheeks, if I were allowed, I'd celebrate every day you walk on this earth," she told her. Emma's eyes widened. 

"Why on Earth would you do that?" she asked incredulously. 

"Because you're amazing, sweetheart. Absolutely amazing. Just so you know. In case nobody's told you that yet." Emma blinked several times without saying anything, and Darcy shrugged. "It's the warm, soft truth."

"He asked where you were," came Bucky's voice, and Darcy turned the tablet towards Bucky. The sheets were thrown over his lap, and he was staring down at the floor, his long hair falling over his shoulders as his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. "When you'd be back. Why you weren't calling him."

"And what did you tell him?" Emma asked kindly. 

"That you were fine and you'd be back the 26th, and that you couldn't call him because you were at a secure location that couldn't be compromised," Bucky breathed, looking relieved for a moment, before he scrubbed a hand over his face to hide it. 

Emma smiled at him. 

"Yeah? Did he give up?"

"Hell no. I had to hang up on him."

"Figures," Emma laughed quietly. One of the corners of Bucky's mouth twitched upwards, and his blue eyes met hers through the screen. 

"Please come home soon," Bucky said quietly, and Emma nodded. 

"We'll be home in four days. And when we get home, the first thing I'm doing is cutting your hair." Bucky's eyebrows shot up. 

"Why?"

"It's getting to the point where you're no longer allowed to borrow my hairbrush because it takes forever to brush it. You're turning into Rapunzel."

"The glowy-haired Rapunzel or the old-timesy Rapunzel?" he asked. 

"Don't try to distract me. Also, glowy-haired Rapunzel, duh. I bet you and Darcy can burst into song any moment."

"Doesn't Flynn question everyone singing all the time?" Darcy called from the other side of the reoom, where she was undoubtedly putting on her clothes.

"You're right. You're not skeptical enough to musicals to be Flynn," Emma agreed. 

"What is it with you and turning people into Disney characters?" Clint chuckled. 

"Powerpuff Girls aren't Disney, Bubbles," Bucky admonished, and Emma snickered. 

"No, but seriously. At least let me make the lion's mane a little shorter. I bet that gets in the way when you're fighting and you're not wearing like a hat or a scrunchie." Bucky wrinkled his nose. 

"Fine. Get home before, God forbid, I have to battle without my hair up," Bucky said, and Natasha snorted. 

" **You're really due for a haricut, Winter** ," she tutted in Russian. He rolled his eyes, and Emma traced his jaw with a finger on the screen, smiling.

"Well, we better go now. We've got stuff to do," Emma declared.

"Have a good birthday, doll," Bucky told her, and she nodded. 

"I will. Bye," Emma said softly. "Love you."

"Love you too," Bucky said, his blue eyes shouting that love at her. He closed the call, and Emma stared at the blank screen for a few moments, clutching it. The three sat silently for a while, until Clint cleared his throat. 

"How often does that happen?" he asked. 

"Uh, not a lot," Emma said distantly, fingers tracing the edges of the tablet. "Sometimes it's big things, sometimes it's small things. Mostly it's long term memory rather than short term memory. Some times he can't remember people's names, or who they are, but he just kind of goes along with it. Fights with his mind until at least something comes back to him and he can scrub the blanks out. But I guess that's what happens when people mindfuck you for years. Not everything is salvagable."

The agents traded knowing looks at Emma's expression. She may not be like them and despair over every life they couldn't save, but she'd saved Bucky. A year ago, he'd been the twitchiest human alive, not talking, not sharing, not caring. But now, now he was a person with interests and feelings and a girlfriend and surprisingly strong emotions concerning the only black Disney princess. 

She'd picked up the pieces of him, fitted them back together and made him get the glue to keep the whole thing from collapsing. It must hurt her that she could only do so much. 

"You're amazing Em, but you're not a magician. Some things can't be completely fixed after they've been broken," Clint said gently, and Emma's fingers tightened a little around the rims of the tablet. 

"I know," she said. 

"You can't fix everything," he said softly, and Emma swallowed hard. 

"As long as you get someone to confirm what happened or whose name is whose, he's fine," Emma said sharply, sounding intensely protective. 

"Bucky's not entirely fine, and you know that, возлюбленный," Natasha murmured, and Emma looked up at her with flashing eyes, angry at the world, angry at the people who hurt her best friend. "PTSD doesn't work that way. God, do we all wish it did, but it doesn't."

"He's fine as long as you tell him what happened," she insisted again, gripping the tablet tighter. If she didn't calm down very soon, it was going to shatter. 

"Emma, hand me the tablet," Clint said silently, and she shot it a look. Her eyes widened as she quickly unwound her fingers from around the edges, wordlessly handing it over to Clint. Suddenly, she looked much smaller than fourteen, and much more scared than was allowed on one's birthday. 

"C'mon, let's go," Natasha murmured softly, holding a hand out to Emma on the floor. They all knew very well that Emma could get up without trouble, but it was more of a comforting gesture, of solidarity. Of knowing what it felt like to be unable to help one's friends.

Emma took Natasha's hand, and let herself be pulled up to her feet again. 

\---

The mall Clint had suggested was bigger than he remembered. But then again, last time he was around here was over three years ago, right after the battle of New York. And even then, he hadn't been in the mood to go shopping. 

He wasn't all that pleased with it now either, but at least he got to see Natasha in a pale summerdress and heels. It was a good look on her. Maybe if he put her out in the sun long enough, she'd get some freckles. Emma's freckles had gotten a little more obvious now that she'd been outside so much lately. 

Of course, seeing as she was some part Irish, and her skin was usually porcelain pale, this meant she burnt easily. The two agents had started using trusty SPF 30 sunscreen after the first burn. Putting Aloe Vera on Emma's burnt skin had turned into a wrestling match on the kitchen floor, and was something they'd prefer not to repeat. 

"Oh, can we go in here?" Emma asked, pointing to a store, and Clint raised his eyebrows to make his sunglasses slide down his nose, so that he could read the sign. 

"If you buy another bottle of bubbles, you better goddamn blow them," Clint complained, and Emma grinned at him, flipping her curls over her shoulders to wink at him. 

"Otherwise I can bring the bubbles home and Bucky can help me blow them," she said. 

"The Winter Soldier blowing bubbles. I'm almost willing to pay for another bottle of bubbles just to see that," he said thoughtfully, and Natasha rolled her eyes behind her sunglasses. The dark lenses almost covered the top half of her face completely. 

"He could still probably take you," she said distractedly as Emma grabbed Natasha's hand to drag her forward. Clint smirked, and felt something vibrate in his pocket. He pulled his phone out, and stared at it for a second, before grimacing. 

"You guys go ahead, I'll be with you in a second," he promised, shooing the other two ahead of him towards the store. Emma shot him a strange look, and Natasha signed " **Everything okay**?"

He nodded, and Natasha skeptically tugged on Emma's arm, reluctant to let the subject slide, but trusting him to tell her if it was something important. Clint picked up and pressed the phone to his ear. 

"What the hell do you want?" he asked. 

"Ouch," Kate replied. "That hurts. Not even a kind greeting?"

"I'm on vacation," he complained. 

"I figured," she said, probably nodding on the other side of the line. "Seeing as you're not out here."

"Out where?" Clint demanded. 

"Defending New York City?" Kate questioned. Clint cursed under his breath, looking around for an electronics store. "Yeah. Stark just called me, telling me they needed a replacement-Hawkeye, and a Black Widow if I had one."

"Rude," Clint gasped, dashing into the closest Best Buy. He jogged over to the tv screens, where a small group of people had gathered, watching the tvs as the different news channels tried to capture the battle.

"Would it make you feel better if I said that you were the glue that held them together?"

"No! Maybe a little. Scratch that, no. What's so daunting that they need you as backup?" he questioned, trying to get a good look at the villains.

"Huge-ass bugs. Bigger than a van, most of them, also very icky. Winter and Cap are kicking ass on ground, while Thor and Stark get them from the air. Banner has turned into a giant fly-swatter. Bug-swatter. Whatever."

"I didn't even know Steve and Tony were back from their honeymoon."

"Yeah, they got back yesterday because apparently that other terrifying redhead wanted to say something? I don't even know, Clint, all I know is gigantic bugs are crawling all over the place, and it's more about containing them than fighting some evil guy."

"How all over the place are they?" Clint asked quietly as his eyes flicked over the screens. Kate made a vague 'dunno' noise. 

"All over the city," she said. Clint's shoulders sagged. That was gonna be a very tiresome clean-up.

"Which fake-Black Widow are you bringing? America?" 

"Duh." 

"Fucking shit," Clint stated, a little louder than he should've when he saw Bucky get smacked by one of the bugs and fly into a stone wall. The Winter Soldier shook his head a little when he moved from the crater in the wall, and Clint winced in sympathy. He knew from experience how much that hurt. Some of the older people turned towards him with a scolding glance, and he smiled sheepishly. 

"Yeah, gotta go, just wanted to make sure you're okay and all. And, y'know, not dead."

"Awww, Katie. You care about me."

"Shut up." Clint smirked, and pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. 

"Be careful out there, Hawkeye."

"Keep your kid safe, Hawkeye," she shot back. 

"Will do," he said with a smile. "Say hi to America for me."

"Sure thing," Kate chirped. "Bye."

"Don't die," he shot back. 

"First of all, I'm offended," Kate began, and Clint hung up, dialing Jarvis as he walked back out of the store. A few moments of talking, and then he was being connected to the comms.

"What the fuck is going on, and why hasn't anyone told us?" Clint accused. "Also, dear god, one at a time, because I'm pretty deaf and I can't read lips from here."

"Do I take this one?" Tony asked, and there was a grunt that was either Steve's or Bucky's. "Right. Yeah. Bugs. _Huge_ bugs. Probably the mutated cockroaches of New York appearing from their dark pits of hell. You guys are on vacation. Plus, we've got it covered, now that Thor is around."

"So, what, everybody got back while we were gone?" Clint questioned. "And you apparently don't got your shit together over there if you're bringing in the tiny guns."

"Lady Hawkeye called you, huh?" Tony said, sounding distracted. "Figures. Hawkeyes suck at keeping secrets."

"Send a jet for us, and we'll be there in an hour," Clint said. 

"Whoa, forgetting something there?" Bucky grunted. "It's Emma's birthday."

"Right. Fate of New York or my daughter's happiness? Goddammit, it's hard to choose," Clint groaned. 

"Daughter's happiness," Steve voted as he undoubtedly kicked someone's ass. "We've got it. With Miss America and Hawkeye incoming, we'll be fine."

"We're trading one couple for another," Tony complained. 

"Shut it, Kate's not ready to admit it," came Darcy's voice from somewhere else. 

"Bullshit!" Clint claimed as his eyes swept the toy-store for two redheads. He found them by the squirt guns, and breathed a sigh of relief. Natasha could talk about guns for a while, and Emma was easily interested enough in squirt guns that they'd both be distracted while he dealt with this. "She was an asshole about me admitting my feelings for Tasha, which means you guys should be assholes about getting her to admit her feelings for Chavez."

"Yeah, well, you'd been pining after Widow for at least ten years or so," Bucky pointed out. "It was getting on all of our nerves."

"You barely had nerves when we found you, mind you," Clint scolded. "Plus, since when do you give a shit?"

"Since you began yappin' about it now!"

"пизда," Clint muttered in Russian. 

"хуй," Bucky called back, and then chuckled lowly before there was a click on the line. 

"You two are too cute, Russian nicknames and all," Tony cooed.

"You realize Clint just called Bucky a cunt, right?" Darcy said disctractedly, and Clint snorted. 

"Since when do you know how to insult people in Russian?" Clint asked. 

"Well, unless it's slipped your mind, I _am_ screwing a very Russian American that has a _very_ dirty mouth," Darcy said tartly, and Tony snorted, a very unattractive sound.

"Goddamn, someone cover Cap's virgin ears," Clint whistled, and he could practically hear Darcy roll her eyes.

"Focus, team," came Steve's exasperated huff. "Could really use some help over here, Iron Man!"

"Roger that," Tony said. "Keep your panties on, Hawkguy, we've got this."

"Hawk _eye_ , and I hate you. Peace out," Clint said, hanging up. He turned around just in time to see Natasha and Emma walk towards him, three new squirt guns acquired. 

" **What's going on**?" Natasha signed as she handed Emma the bag. 

" **Fate of New York at stake, and apparently Bucky is a talented lover** ," he signed back. Natasha scoffed, and Emma's eyes narrowed. 

"Hey, I saw Bucky's name in there. What's the matter?" she demanded. 

"Do you know who Miss America is?" Clint asked with a small smile. Emma's eyes widened, and Clint's smile turned into a smirk. "I take that as a yes. She's kicking ass and taking names with the others."

"Awesome! Can you tell the others to get me an autograph?" she asked as she skipped along, and Clint almost sighed in relief. Thank god distracting Emma wasn't too hard. 

"Sure thing, birthday girl," Clint nodded.

 **"Why did they need Miss America**?" she signed discreetly behind a bag.

" **As a replacement Black Widow**." Understanding lit up Natasha's features. 

"Kate and Chavez are in the field?" she questioned quietly.

"Yup. Bug infestation in New York."

"Hm. I'm conflicted." She looked over at Emma, who was ahead of them again, looking pointedly at an ice cream stand.

"They've already shot down the plan of us leaving, so we've got a drive-in to look forward to, and our friends to freak the fuck out about."

"Sounds like a good night," Natasha said, pursing her lips.

"Hey, no frowning on Emma's birthday," Clint said, leaning in to peck her lips quickly. He was almost shocked when Natasha allowed it, sliding a hand into the backpocket of his shorts and groping a little. PDA was usually out of the question, or at least filed down to hand-holding. He liked when Natasha was bold.

"No bitching about if the movie sucks, then," Natasha murmured. "We all know you're a critic to magic, but Emma still finds it fascinating."

"Ugh. Fine. Can I kiss you one more time? Just for future strength to deal with the fake magic and CGI."

"You're cheesy," Natasha complained when he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her into a gentle kiss.

"Ew," came Emma's groan of embarrassment. "Stop kissing. Unless I'm kissing someone, it's icky."

"You want a kiss?" Clint asked, pulling away from Natasha's amusedly smiling lips. "I'll give you a kiss. C'mon." Emma's eyes were bright and wide as she backed up a step. He pounced, catching up to her quite quickly.

"Dad!" Emma squealed when he got a hold of her, pulling her into a hug and planting one on her cheek loudly. "That's gross."

Clint had never been happier in his life when he heard Natasha's soft laughter behind them.

\---

When it started getting dark, they drove to the drive-in, and Clint made a nest in the back of the truck, helping Natasha into the nest with a grand bow. 

"Do you approve of the nest, M'birthdaylady?" Clint asked as Emma returned from the snack-run. Emma squinted, tilted her head to the side as she considered it. 

"Quite," she nodded, and Clint grinned. 

"Good." He grabbed underneath her arms and hoisted her into the back of the truck, making her let out an excited giggle. They cuddled in under the blankets and watched the entirety of the new Ghostbusters before Emma had to go to the bathroom. 

"You wanna find it on your own or do you want me to come with you?" Natasha asked. Emma furrowed her eyebrows. 

"Do you need to pee too?" Natasha considered. 

"Not really, but I'll come with you." Emma wrinkled her nose. 

"Nah, I think I've got it," she said, crawling out from between her parents and hopping down from the back of the truck on wobbly legs. "My foot feels like ant wars."

"Ant wars?" Clint questioned. Emma blinked. 

"Ant wars? When those clunky tv's used to exist and there was black and white flickering when shit went down?" she said cautiously. "Did that not happen?"

"You mean snow?" Clint asked. Emma furrowed her eyebrows. 

"What? No? Ant wars."

"Emma was with an American circus with tons of Europeans in it, around there they call 'the snow' 'war of the ants'," Natasha explained, knowing very well how firmly Emma and Clint believed in what they knew. 

"How'd you know that?" Emma questioned, stomping her foot on the grass to get it back to life again. Natasha raised an eyebrow at her, and Emma smiled. "Mission or something?"

"Or something. Now, go, before the next movie starts," Natasha said, shooing her off. 

Clint sank down next to her, throwing an arm over her shoulders and pulling her in. He smiled into her hair and kissed it. 

"Hi," he murmured. Natasha tilted her head up, and he tucked her hair behind her ear, smiling. 

"Hello," she replied, her voice smooth and gentle. It made Clint's heart press against his ribcage, wanting to be closer to this amazing woman. Her fingers traced his jaw, cupping his cheek as her plump lips curved into a devilish smile. 

Before he could really think about it, Clint was kissing her, coaxing her lips open with his tongue. He'd never gone to high-school, but he kind of felt like one, making out with his girlfriend in his car at the drive-in.

He muffled a giggle against Natasha's lips, and tangled his hand into her red curls, pulling her closer until her one leg was thrown over his, their kissing languid and loving. 

"I feel like such a teenager right now," Clint panted when they pulled away to breathe. 

"You're nearing 35, hot shot," Natasha exhaled, and Clint growled playfully, squeezing her thigh. 

"What about you, then? Let's make fun of your age."

"You should never ask about a woman's age," Natasha admonished as she ran a hand through his hair, kissing him again. Just like that, that particular train of thought was tossed away carelessly. 

They managed to steal a few more hot kisses before Natasha saw Emma approach. 

"Clint," she warned, and he groaned as she slipped off of where she was straddling him, the skirt of her dress hiked up, cliché enough. They managed to fix themselves into some semblance of order before Emma came close enough to see them, but Clint wasn't feeling all done with Natasha yet, so right before she actually signaled her return, he grabbed Natasha's chin and gave her a quick kiss, earning an exasperated, but still very pleased huff.

Emma hopped into the back of the truck with a grin. 

"The batrooms look nothing like the ones in Grease," she declared, and crawled up between them, retaking her seat. "And I know I joked about you two being able to make out and all, but can you not? It's sometimes cute but I'd also rather like to watch Miss Peregrine's Home For Peculiar Children."

Emma fell asleep halfway through it, sadly enough. She slept curled up in the backseat all the way back to the farm.

"Alright sweetheart, we're home," Clint said softly as they pulled up to the farmhouse, and Emma mumbled incoherently from her cocoon. The lights were on in the kitchen, but that was it. Natasha smiled gently and leaned back to brush a hand over Emma's hair gently. 

"Come on возлюбленный, you know you want to get out of that dress and into your sleeping shirt," Natasha coaxed. Emma's mumbles became annoyed when Clint poked her. 

"You're not gonna make this easy, are you?" he grinned, and got out of the car to open her door. Natasha hopped out too, collecting the remaining blankets from the back.

"Are you gonna make me carry you?" Clint asked, amusement apparent. Part of Emma's face peeked out to show sleepy eyes with heavy eyelids.

"Mhm," she affirmed sleepily. Clint chuckled.

"You're way too big for that. You're fourteen now."

"Being old sucks," Emma mumbled, and opened one eye completely. "But it's my birthday. You can't deny me things on my birthday."

"I want to know who taught you that so that I can give them a piece of my mind," he smiled. "Just this once, then. But you gotta let go of the blankets."

"All of 'em?"

"All of them."

Emma grumbled, but wormed herself out of her nest, and stretched her arms out to Clint. He hoisted her up and she clung to him like a koala, sighing happily against his neck. Natasha raised an eyebrow at the two of them, and Clint signed " **birthday** " at her. Natasha snorted her amusement.

"We're spoiling you," Natasha remarked as she gathered Emma's blankets from the backseat as they made their way up towards the house. 

Clint let Emma down in the bathroom to brush her teeth, and then herded her off towards the bed. She collapsed in her bed with a loud, fake snore. He chuckled. 

"G'night, kiddo," he said softly as he kissed her forehead, earning a happy mumble. He turned the lights off in her room and slid the door mostly shut, walking down the stairs. 

Natasha was holding his phone pressed to her ear as she poured herself a glass of water, frowning. 

"How many wounded?" she asked lowly, looking up as Clint entered the room. She looked tired, the kind of tired that came with being a superhero. A bone-deep weariness, the heavy burden of not being there to save lives. She rubbed the back of her hand against her forehead. "Fuck."

Clint frowned and approached her, reaching a hand out. Natasha closed her eyes and signed a number at him that made the next swallow a little harder. 

"That's... That's not too bad," he protested as he wetted his dry lips. Natasha rubbed the bridge of her nose, and huffed. 

"Yeah, I'm still here, Stark. We'll be back in a couple of days. Have Darcy and Pepper make a good statement. No, we're fine. How's Kate? Good. Yeah, bye," she mumbled, and ended the call, tossing his phone on the counter with a clatter. 

Natasha pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes and sighed, a trembling breath being expelled from her lungs.

"How's everyone?" he asked lowly. Natasha ran a hand through her hair. 

"Kate got bitten and thinks she's going to turn into a bug. Bruce has told her that's not going to happen, but is keeping her and America overnight anyways. Bucky has a couple of bruised ribs and his kidneys aren't happy with him, but he'll be fine. Tony's got a bump on the head and Thor's not very pleased with how the bugs barely reacted to his lightning."

"So, essentially, everyone's still nuts?"

"Essentially," she said, the corner of her mouth turning upwards for a moment. She drummed her nails against the counter, and Clint noticed the energy for what it was: Natasha was angry. He'd thought that something was bothering her this morning, but the feeling had gone away when Natasha had let him be distracted by her lips. 

"Let's hear it," Clint said. 

"Hear what?" Natasha asked, green eyes flashing at him. Probably angry that he knows her too well. It was easy to tick her off like that when she was already getting ready to crash down like a tsunami of anger. She was probably angry for not doing enough, not being there to help.

"You know what I mean, Nat," Clint murmured. "You're pissed."

"I'm not pissed," she said, eyes narrowing dangerously.

"Yeah, you are. So am I. We could've helped them kick ass today, but we didn't. It was our choice. And they still did pretty well, considering."

"So many people injured, Clint," Natasha pressed, pressing her palms flat against the stone surface and staring at him with a shine to her eyes. "So many."

"I know," he said, swallowing the lump in his throat. "I know."

"I just... We're living in this little fairy world when we should be out there with our teammates, helping them," Natasha ground out. Clint saw the way her stance went from weary to ready for a fight and angry fucking. He sighed, and sat down, bracing his elbows on the countertop. 

"No. We're not doing that shit right now," he said, shaking his head. Natasha opened her mouth, probably to yell, but he silenced her with a look. "You know what I'm talking about. Cut the bullshit, Tasha. It sucks that we weren't there to help, yeah, but think about Emma. She needs this, more than the world needs the two of us right now. So let's just... Not."  
Natasha glared at him, green eyes shiny with unshed tears and jaw tightened in anger and grief. 

"C'mon," he murmured, reaching out for her hand. "Let me take care of you."

Natasha stared at his hand, swallowed once, and then reached a shaking hand out to take his, and grip it tightly. He lead her to the bedroom and made sure to close the door firmly.

\---


	4. Longing And Kittens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi peeps!  
> ...There will be one last chapter. More fluff in this one, a lil bit of angst. I hope you'll like it.  
> Enjoy! <3

 

Emma sat up, gasping, her hands twisted into the sheets as she stared into the darkness of the room. Her mouth was dry and her skin was crawling with touches of people she wished she could've hunted down and flayed. Running a shaking hand through her hair, she threw her legs over the edge of her bed.

How come her nightmares liked to peek out whenever she was feeling particularly good? Her birthday had been awesome, for once, and she'd gotten so many cool presents. She turned her lava lamp on and kicked her summerdress, that was still on the floor, towards the hamper.

With still shaking hands, she pulled the blinds, to find that the sky was light blue, with the sun turning the few clouds in the sky orange and gold. Some stars still twinkled in the sky, and she wondered if Clint was helping the farmhands with the chores today. 

Her new things were piled up on the chair by her bedside, and she trailed a finger over the black box from Damian. Tugging the sleeping shirt she was wearing off, she opened the box and slipped into the Gotham Knights t-shirt, pulling the hem over her nose so that she could take a whiff. It pissed her off a little that Damian's scent was so comforting. 

She wrapped her arms around herself and sat down on the floor, tracing the cracks in the wood. This used to be Charlies room. She's known it intellectually since she got here, but it only really hits her now that this used to be his room. Barney. Her old best friend's room. She reaches in under the bed, and feels around underneath it, only to find a kitchen knife taped there. Not unexpected. 

Speaking of kitchens. It's way too early for her to be up, but her stomach doesn't seem to care, and growls angrily. 

"Stupid bodily functions," she grumbled, getting up on legs that felt unsteady. 

Emma made her way down the stairs silently, snagging the Starktab from the living room and strolling into the kitchen confidently. Her fingers lingered over the app that would make a call to Bucky, and then she frowned. 

After making herself some toast and hot cocoa, she settled on one of the chairs in the dining room, wrapped in the afghan blanket from the living room. Again, she hesitated, fingers hovering over the tablet.

She pressed the app, and the screen went dark, a loading symbol in the middle of the screen. 

Surprisingly, the view that greeted her when the screen lit up was a sweaty Bucky, wearing a tank top and with his hair up. He was probably in the gym, considering there was a punching bag in the background, one of those durable ones that Emma had gotten to punch. He looked just as surprised at seeing her, and there was a stunned silence for a few moments.

"What the hell are you doing up?" Emma asked accusingly, and Bucky gave her an incredulous look. 

"Hello to you too, Little Miss Hypocrite. Were you expecting someone else to pick up your call on a secret line at four in the morning?" he asked snarkily, and Emma smiled. Goddamn, she loved Bucky. 

"No, I just... I didn't even expect you to answer at all."

"I could hang up," he suggested, and Emma rolled her eyes. 

"Don't you dare. How about we trade reasons? Why I'm up for why you're up." Bucky narrowed his eyes, looking her over. 

"Nope. No need. I know why you're up, doll. Nightmares," he said, and Emma wrinkled her nose. 

"Goddammit. Why did I raise you to be a good, well-educated, knowing person?" she whined. Bucky smiled a little, one of those small crooked smiles that could make pretty much anyone's knees weak, if only he'd show it to more people. 

"If it makes you any happier, I haven't slept at all tonight."

"How, exactly, is that supposed to make me feel happier?" she asked. He shrugged. 

"Reasons for reasons?" Emma hummed, considered that, and nodded. 

"Reasons for reasons. I knew I raised you well." Bucky smiled and leaned against a wall in the training room, looking every bit as exhausted as he should. "Why couldn't you sleep?" He shrugged. 

"Bad night, 's all." Emma hummed, looking Bucky over too. His shoulders were tenser than they were supposed to be, and he didn't seem all the way with her. She tilted her head. 

"What happened?" she asked. 

"What're you asking about?" he fired back, and Emma gave him a ' _really? You're trying to pull this shit on me? Me, of all people?_ ' look. Bucky swallowed, and looked away from the screen, putting it down.

"C'mon. It'll make you feel better if you talk about it," Emma coaxed, sipping her hot cocoa. Bucky nodded thoughtfully, pulling his hair out of it's ponytail to run his hand through it.

"You remember Darcy's mom?" Bucky asked as he began unwinding the athletic tape from his hands. Emma nodded. 

"Bella, right?"

"Yeah. She wants me to meet Darcy's dad too. And her sisters. And brothers."

"Oh boy. Sounds scary." Bucky huffed, sweeping his hair out of his eyes. 

"Yeah. I do, though. I want to meet them. I should be able to meet them. A normal guy would," Bucky said, his jaw clenched angrily, tone self-depricating. Emma snorted. 

"Normal guys are terrified of meeting the family. You just happen to have a heaping of PTSD and social anxiety to go along with it," she said gently. Bucky grumbled. 

"That really isn't making it better. 'Hi, my name's Bucky. I'm dating your daughter. I know I look twenty-eight, but I'm actually ninety-eight, have PTSD, and I have no job or money. Pleased to meet ya.'," he said with a polite, tense smile, sticking his hand out. Emma snorted. 

"Maybe don't lead with that." Bucky let out a frustrated sigh as he smacked the crumpled ball of athletic tape into a bin. 

"This was much easier when I didn't feel things like love or nervousness. I blame you for humanizing me."

"Hey, don't piss on all my hard work," Emma chided. "Maybe take it slow, like you did with Bella. Ease into it. Darcy is obviously very accommodating, she'd let you take it slow."

"Maybe I should just brave through it," he said thoughtfully. "Meet them all at once."

"It's like you _want_ to give yourself a panic attack. Kyle has told me to face my fears in doses, as to prevent myself from blowing stuff up. Small doses, Buck." He let out a frustrated sound again.

"Your shrink is annoyingly wise."

"He's got a doctorate to prove it," Emma smiled. At Bucky's sad look, she sighed. "Don't beat yourself up over this. You can't do some things wildly. So what? Neither can the rest of us. Steve hates snow and ice skating, Tony doesn't like blindfolds, even Thor hates snakes! We're not well-adjusted individuals. That's just the way it is. But we're helping each other adjust, slowly."

"Why does Thor hate snakes?" Bucky asked with furrowed eyebrows.

"According to myth, or I guess his reality, the Serpent of Midgard is supposed to slay him when the world ends. So he isn't very lovey-dovey with tiny serpents now," Emma shrugged. "I get why he'd fear them."

"Reasonable," Bucky agreed thoughtfully. She still noticed the distress on his face that others would've missed, and sighed, shooting him a soft smile.

"Want me to come with you?" she asked as she sipped her cocoa. Bucky snorted.

"I hate that you have to ask that. I'm a grown ass man. I should be able to just- shut up and just, do things, like meet Darcy's family without freaking the fuck out," he said, his fist clenching. His knuckles were almost white when he chuckled self-depricatingly. "I'm a disaster. Why does she even put up with me?"

"Because she loves you," Emma said softly. "And you're not a disaster. You're messed up, but hell, sometimes I can't even close my door because I'm terrified if I close it, I won't ever be able to open it again. We're all messed up. Darcy knows what she's signed up for."

Bucky rapped his metal knuckles against the floor in the gym, biting his lip.

"I can't bring you. No, that's... That can't be socially acceptable."

"What?" Emma giggled. "Not socially acceptable? Since when do you care about that?" 

"Since I met Darcy's mom," Bucky groaned. "I don't know, doll. I want Darcy's parents to like me. At least a little."

"Just a little. You wouldn't wanna set the bar too high."

"Mm." Bucky frowned, and Emma rolled her shoulders a little under the afghan.

"Oh, come on, Bonnie. If you're not going to bring me, at least do it in small doses. One person at a time."

"Good plan," he nodded. He tilted his head to the side as he looked her over. "What were you having nightmares about?" Emma shrugged, and rubbed her cheek, considering scratching it to get the feel of another's hands on her skin off of her. 

"Things."

"Doctor Kyle would tell you to spill your shit."

"In other words, probably," she agreed, and swallowed. Emma rubbed her cheek harder, and Bucky let out a soft breath.

"Oh. That," he said quietly, gently.

"What?" she snapped at him. Bucky tilted his head a little.

"You should wake your parents up," he said softly. Emma felt her eyes tear up, and she shook her head. 

"No. It's too early," she mumbled, scratching her cheek. Bucky shook his head.

"Go. Now." Emma scratched her cheek, and shook her head. "You go wake them up now, or I'm yelling until they wake up. Don't make me do that, doll." Emma sniffled a little, and swallowed the lump forming in her throat.

"I'm fine," she told him, but it sounded more like she was telling herself. Bucky took a deep breath very suddenly.

"Natasha!" he yelled at the top of his lungs, and Emma's eyes widened as she heard a thump upstairs, and Clint yelling a curse in a language she didn't know.

"Holy crap, did you seriously just do that?" Emma asked him incredulously, and Bucky shrugged. "Just know, when Nat gets ahold of you, that I loved you very much, and I'll miss you when you're six feet under."

Her parents came flying down the stairs, bracelets and bow at the ready and aiming. Yet again, Emma was intimidated until she saw Natasha in Clint's flannel shirt and Clint in his Hulk boxers he'd gotten from her at Christmas.

"What's going on here?" Natasha asked slowly, her eyes taking in the situation. Clint, after noticing there was no real threat, sighed. Emma noticed he had a purple plastic box clenched between his teeth, and he put his bow down to take the box out of his mouth.

"What the fuck, guys," he said, quieter than usual, and opened the tiny box to reveal his hearing aids. Natasha strode over and said something sharply in Russian to Bucky, who shrugged.

"She wouldn't wake you up. Had to take things into my own hands," he said simply. Natasha looked down at Emma, and the hand she was still absently rubbing against her reddening cheek.

"I see," she said calmly. "Go to bed, James." Bucky made a dismissive noise, and recieved equally stern glares from both redheads.

"Jesus Christ, fine," he grumbled. "I'll leave you now. Love you, Em."

"Love you too," Emma replied softly, and ended the call.

"Alright, I'm back to kind of hearing. What's going on?" Clint asked as he strode into the dining room. "Why are we up at..." He checked the clock in the kitchen. "Three in the morning?"

Natasha ran a careful hand over Emma's hair, and when Emma didn't flinch back or lean into the touch, she knew what kept Emma up.

"Emma?" she asked gently, and Emma forced her hand away from her face, clenching it in her lap.

"I didn't want to wake you up," she said simply.

"Nightmares, huh?" Clint asked as he sat down in the chair next to her's. Emma shrugged a little, and Natasha bit her lip, sitting down on the other side of her.

"You know that what they did to you was wrong, yes?" she asked the youngest of them. Emma swallowed, but nodded. "And that it doesn't change your worth in any way at all?" When Emma hesitated before nodding, Clint felt rage rise within him. He considered giving Coulson a call and asking where they'd shipped Inferno's men off to so that he could pay them a little friendly visit.

"I don't really... Want to talk about this right now," Emma breathed, and Clint nodded empathetically.

"Yeah, alright. Be sure to bring it up next time you see Dr. Wyatt." Emma nodded and slipped off her chair.

"You guys can go back to sleep," she said quietly. "I'll be fine."

Natasha and Clint traded a look, and Natasha shook her head.

"Only if you come with us," she said gently. She reached a hand out to Emma as the two agents stood back up. Emma stared at it, and tucked her nose into her new t-shirt, inhaling.

She took Natasha's hand and let herself be led up the stairs and tucked in between them.

\---

Later, when they'd eaten a quick lunch after their delayed awakening, they got dressed and hopped into the car. After the nap they'd all taken together, Emma was much more energized, and excited to meet the kittens.

"Now, Jimmy is being nice, letting us see the kittens, so you remember to thank him," Clint said sternly as they pulled up on Jimmy's driveway. Emma nodded excitedly as she took in the blue and white house on the hill. The barn next to it was old and worn, but far from rickety.

"What was his wife's name again?" Natasha asked carefully.

"Christine. She went to the same school as we did, just in another class," Clint replied as he pulled the car into park. The door to the barn opened as they all hopped out of the car, and Jimmy appeared from it, in a flannel and shorts, his shaggy hair tied back and his hands on his hips.

"The Bartons! What a pleasant surprise!" Jimmy yelled over the big lawn and shot off a beaming smile as Clint waved. Emma admired Jimmy's genuine smile, the way he dusted his hands off on his shorts easily. He seemed to have no problems, no issues to deal with. She wondered what that was like.

"You did say it'd be alright for us to check on by. Does the invitation still stand?" Clint asked charmingly, and Jimmy's smile turned into a grin.

"Sure thing. Now, I'm sure you're only here for the kittens, not the good company," he said, nodding towards Emma, who shrugged.

"You caught me," she agreed, even as Clint huffed.

"I swear, we're trying to teach her manners," he told Jimmy. Natasha scoffed.

"Trying," she said pointedly, and Emma smiled up at them innocently.

"I'm a very polite, mild-mannered girl," she said solemnly.

"You're really not, but that's actually kind of okay. You pull it off," Clint said thoughtfully. Emma gave him a quizzical look, and then turned to Jimmy with a smile.

"Now, you said something about kittens?" she said. Jimmy made a grandiose sweep with his hand, pointing into the barn.

"Follow me," he smirked.

On the floor inside the barn, by the haybales, there was a small wooden box, and as soon as they got closer, tiny chirps were heard.

"Here we are," Jimmy said softly, and Emma tip-toed closer to the box, sitting down on the dirty floor without a concern in the world for her dress. In the wooden box, six tiny kittens were huddled around a mother, some feeding on her and others just sprawled out over their siblings. Emma let out a sound that could've shattered windows with how high it was.

"Oh my god, my heart legit hurts," she said as she stuck a hand into the box, petting the exhausted mother gently, getting approval as the fluffy cat's little heartshaped nose sniffed her palm.

"You just had to tell her about the kittens, didn't you?" Clint said to his childhood friend, and he laughed.

"I just thought your girl would like to see, is all," he said, and Natasha crouched by Emma and the box.

"You know why we can't take one, right?" Natasha asked, and Emma furrowed her eyebrows.

"Why not?"

"We're not allowed to bring pets on the plane," Natasha said. Emma picked one of the black and orange furballs up and placed it in Natasha's lap.

"But mom, look at it!" she urged. The kitten in Natasha's lap dug it's tiny claws into her leg, and made a tiny chirping noise of distress. Carefully, Natasha uncurled it from herself to put it back in the box, resisting almost effortlessly.

"That's not going to make the airline let us bring it, no matter how cute it is," she said firmly, and Emma got a sad look on her face.

"But..."

"I'm sure Jimmy will let you come around to check on them before we leave," Clint said, nudging Jimmy with an elbow. Emma looked up at him with wide eyes, and Jimmy, as many other brave soldiers, fell for the intensity of the puppy eyes.

"Yeah, sure. Anytime," he promised, and Emma dug her hand into the pile of kittens to pull another one out, this one entirely orange with a black splotch on it's side.

"Do they have names?" she asked him innocently. Jimmy pursed his lips and crouched down on one side of the box.

"Two of them do, because they've had dibs called on them," he said thoughtfully. "We're gonna keep at least one of 'em, and get the other ones adopted to good homes around town."

"That sounds like a good plan," Emma approved as she lifted the kitten of her choice up to her face to get a good look at it. "Does this one have a name?" Jimmy looked up at the kitten and shook his head.

"No, it's just those guys over there," he said, pointing to two of the kittens that were nestled up to their mother. The one Natasha had plucked from her lap was crawling over his siblings to get to the mother.

Emma held the kitten to her chest, and it wriggled a little before looking up at her.

"Oh no," she said gravelly.

"What?" Clint asked cautiously.

"I want to name it," she said. Jimmy shrugged.

"Let's hear it."

"Nazaninam," Emma said with a smile. Jimmy raised an eyebrow at Clint, who was equally baffled. Natasha, who recognized the word for what it was, looked suspicious.

"Is Damian teaching you Farsi?" Natasha asked, a little shocked herself, and Emma shook her head distractedly as she let the kitten roam free up to her shoulder.

"No, it's just something that he called me once, and it didn't sound like an insult."

"It's not," Natasha said, mentally reevaluating Emma's relationship with Damian. Him calling her lovely and beautiful in his first language meant more than Emma perhaps realized. "It's sweet."

"It is?" Emma questioned as the kitten pressed it's face to Emma's neck, and Emma giggled as she detached the little bundle of fur.

"Very," Natasha assured her.

"I don't even know if I could spell that," Jimmy laughed awkwardly, and Emma hummed.

"Alright. What about... Violet?"

"Way to do a one-eighty," Clint chuckled.

"The man wants American and I want to name a kitten," Emma declared.

"Violet is cute," Jimmy smiled. "But I'm pretty sure that's one of the boys."

"So?"

"So?" Jimmy echoed, and Emma raised both eyebrows, asking him to explain to her why she couldn't name a male cat Violet.

"Why does it matter?" Emma asked. "Why can't he be named Violet? Violet is a rockin' name."

Natasha raised her eyebrow at Jimmy, and Clint rubbed his face to cover up his grin. With both redheads against him, it was hardly a fair fight. Jimmy didn't know it yet, but he was bound to lose.

Luckily, Jimmy held his hands up.

"Violet it is," he said, seeing when he was beat. Emma grinned, and held Violet to her chest gently. The kitten seemed to enjoy the contact, looking up at her with big blue eyes.

"How old is the mama cat?" Clint asked, too curious not to approach the kitten box as the kittens began pouring out of the hole in the box, all approaching Emma like she was made of actual catnip. Of course, she didn't protest to that, and used her dress to make a little cradle to gather them all up in.

"Micro's six now," Jimmy replied with a fond smile. "Not sure what she was thinking, having kittens now. Having kittens to raise will get in the way of her napping in sunny spots and shedding all over the furniture and puking in my shoes." He stroked the black and orange fur, and the cat purred.

"Micro? You have a cat named Micro and yet you protest Violet?" Emma asked incredulously, and Jimmy smiled.

"Her name is actually Microscopium, like the constellation? Except it's so long, so Chrissy's taken to just saying Micro," he smiled.

Violet meowed, and Emma gently took hold of the kitten, bringing it up to her face.

"I'm in actual, physical pain. Please tell me we can have one," she said as Violet meowed again, looking pleased with this newfound height.

"They're too small to be handed out now," Jimmy said with a shrug, and Natasha stopped whatever he was about to say with a look. Jimmy closed his mouth again, and Clint scratched one kitten under it's chin, getting a tiny paw pressed to his thumb for the effort.

"Is Chrissy home? I'd like to see her too, now that we're here," Clint asked.

"Yup, she's in the house. You should go say hi. I bet she'd love to see you again."

"Awesome. I'll go now. Nat, you wanna join me?"

"Sure," Natasha said, standing up and brushing the dirt off of her knees.

"What about you, Em? Wanna meet Chrissy or stay with the kittens?" he asked. Emma looked up from Violet only to give him a very pointed look. "Right. Stupid question. Why deal with being social when you can pet kittens?"

"My sentiments exactly," Emma agreed, and Jimmy grinned. One of the kittens ventured out of Emma's lap to chirp at him instead, and he looked just about as enamoured as she did.

"Cat-maniacs," Clint muttered as Natasha followed him out of the barn.

"Mm. I thought they were quite cute, but you're more of a dog guy, I know. The american dream. Dog, three kids and a house, white picket fence," she remarked as they began their trek toward the blue house.

"White picket fence? Sounds boring. We don't do boring," Clint said, shooting her a look as he took her hand, squeezing briefly. "Also, I prefer dogs because they're more companionable than cats."

"Cats are affectionate and companionable when they feel like it," Natasha said defensively.

"You relate to cats, that's why you like them!" Clint gasped, and Natasha narrowed her eyes at him and his big, goofy grin. "You're actually a lot like a cat, now that I think about it. You curl up like one when you sleep. And you like to do that thing where you hide in small spaces and then lash out with your claws. Why isn't your name Cat-Widow?"

"Because I kill the men I sleep with more than I am cat-like," Natasha said, giving him a disbelieving look, and Clint shrugged.

"You could still be Cat-Widow," he said, and Natasha raised an eyebrow.

"That's a terrible name." Clint mock-gasped.

"Is not!"

"You're sounding like a twelve-year-old, Clint," Natasha said with an eyeroll, contemplating yet again why she loved this moron. Clint grinned cheekily at her.

"You still love me," he coaxed, and Natasha rolled her eyes again, but let herself be pulled into Clint's side.

The screendoor swung open, and a woman with blonde hair and blue eyes, very mid-westernly beautiful with freckles all over her face, strode out. Her shirt was blue and white striped, and covered an impressive bump. She smiled a sunny smile, and Natasha wondered if that was a trait all corn-bred Iowans shared. Nobody in this town seemed to have a smile that could be described anything else than 'sunny'.

Natasha kind of despised it.

"Well hello there! I didn't know we had company!" the woman said cheerfully. "Clint Barton, is that _you_?"

"You betcha, Chrissy," Clint beamed back, and Natasha tried out a smile of her own. Not as natural as Clint's, but he actually knows these people.

"Oh my gosh!" Chrissy exclaimed happily as they arrived at the porch, finally, and pulled Clint into a hug. "Jimmy told me you were back in town, but I'd never think I'd see you around here again! You look great."

"You look better, believe me," Clint smiled, and Chrissy laughed, reaching a hand out to Natasha.

"You must be Nat. Jimmy's told me about you too," she explained as Natasha gripped her hand, surprised at the firmness of Chrissy's grip when her physique suggested she'd be ninety pounds soaking wet, if it weren't for the bump.

"And you must be Chrissy. Nice to meet you," Natasha said, sounding a little too cheery for Clint's taste. He stopped himself from giving her an odd look, knowing that Chrissy would notice.

"Nice to meet you too!" she chirped, and lay a gentle hand on the swell of her belly. "The kid would say hi too, but it's busy being made." Clint smiled at the joke, and Natasha managed a small smile too.

"How far along are you?" Clint asked.

"28 weeks now," she announced, patting her stomach.

"Wow. Impressive," Clint said, and Chrissy laughed.

"I'm also constantly amazed at my body's inner workings. It's really amazing though. Oh! Wanna feel it kick?" she asked as she put her hand on the side of her stomach, rubbing a little distantly. Clint looked dazzled.

"You're okay with that?" he asked cautiously.

"Sure, Clint. Have a feel," she said, bringing his hand to her stomach. Clint's eyes widened, and Natasha felt a stab of pain in her chest. Never could that be her stomach, never could Clint feel their child kick through her skin. That was never going to be a possibility.

"Oh wow. That is... That is insanely cool," he laughed breathlessly. "Holy crap. Is it okay if Em feels this? She's probably never seen a pregnant woman in her life."

"Really?" Christine asked, wide-eyed. "Wow. Yeah, sure."

"Are you sure? She's... Not good at censoring herself. And she will ask you a lot of questions. Like, a lot. And possibly insult your unborn child unknowingly," Clint said, looking up at Christine with a sheepish little smile. Who could resist his stupidly charming face?

"I'll try to answer as many questions as she may throw at me," Christine said gently. Clint grinned.

"You're still awesome, Chrissy." She laughed, stroking her stomach when Clint's fell from it. "Hey, Em! Come say hi!"  
Emma peeked out of the barn, and noticed Christine. Intrigued, she approached, hopping up the steps of the porch.

"Hi," Emma said, glancing from her face to her stomach, and eyes widening just a little, before flicking back up to her face.

"Hello," Christine grinned. "I'm Christine, Jimmy's wife."

"Awesome," Emma declared, putting her hands on her hips. "I'm Emma. Nice to meet you."

"You can talk about it," Clint assured her, and Emma blinked.

"Thank the gods. Is that a baby?" Emma asked, nodding towards her stomach. Christine chuckled.

"Yes, it is."

"How is that not terrifying you?" she asked curiously. "I just think about the first Alien movie, with the guy and the thing on the face that burst through his-"

"Didn't need that image," Natasha cut her off, and Emma shrugged.

"It's what I've always imagined babies like. And pregnant people make me think about yellow submarines."

"Why is that? Please, let's get inside," Christine asked as she opened the screen door again to let them in.

"Because if you went swimming, you'd be a human submarine, and submarines make me think about the song Yellow Submarine by the Beatles," Emma explained as they moved into the bright living room, with the light blue walls and matching couch. The coffee table was big and the wood was very dark, a nice contrast to the blue.

"I haven't thought about it that way before, actually," Christine smiled as she sank down into the couch with a heavy sigh. "Oh, that feels good." Emma sat down too, and Jimmy came through the door.

"Some lemonade?" he asked, and Emma nodded vigoriously.

"Thanks, Jimmy," Clint smiled, and Natasha seated herself on the other side of the pregnant woman. Chrissy rubbed her side with a grimace.

"Oh, it's kicking again," she grumbled. "It's supposed to be lovely, and it's nice to feel it move and all, but the kicks hurt a little. Sharp heels." She told Natasha this, as if she had had a child kick inside of her. Natasha's hands tightened in her lap, but she nodded compassionately at the blonde.

"Kicking? The baby kicks you?" Emma questioned. "That's mean."

"It's the only way babies communicate, Em," Clint said. Emma looked up at Christine.

"Is it okay if I feel it?" she asked. "You're probably tired of people asking you that."

"Weeell, maybe sometimes, like at parties," Christine admitted with an embarrased shrug. "But if you want to feel it, that's fine. Have you ever felt a baby kick before?"

"Peter's kicked me in the stomach a couple of times, but he's walking around, so I'm not sure if that counts," Emma shrugged. At Christine's confused look, Emma smiled. "He's my... Cousin, kind of. He's small. A year and a half or something."

"Ah," Christine said knowingly. Jimmy came in with the lemonades, setting them down on the table and slumping down next to Clint with a lazy smile. Christine took Emma's hand, and guided it to the place where the baby was currently kicking. "There. Feel that."

Emma's eyes widened in terror, and she stared at the blonde's stomach. "That's a _foot_!?" Emma exclaimed, and Christine chuckled.

"Yup."

"That must hurt like fuck," Emma said as she slipped her hand away, still looking mildly terrified, and Christine's eyebrows shot up. Clint winced. Reeling in Emma's cursing had never been a thing, mostly because it'd slowed down since she'd gotten to live with them, but it still happened. Other parents would obviously frown at that.

"No cursing around the baby!" Clint said, and Emma frowned.

"It's barely a real baby yet. It's a blob with arms and legs and a head."

"It can still hear," Jimmy pointed out, and Emma furrowed her eyebrows, looking up at Christine for permission to touch yet again. Christine settled back, and nodded, and Emma pinched her lips together in concentration as she put a hand on her stomach.

"Does the baby hurt you other than kicking?" Emma asked curiously. Chrissy hummed.

"I burst out crying a lot. And I've got these ugly things," she grumbled, hiking her shirt up to show stretch marks. "And my feet hurt, along with my legs, because I have to carry all this sudden, additional weight around. But the baby doesn't hurt me."

"These are cool. What are they?" Emma asked, following a jagged, red mark on Christine's stomach.

"Stretch marks," Christine replied, frowning. "A downside to being pregnant."

Emma blinked. "But they're pretty! They're like tiny little reminders that you're making a person. You deserve credit for that, by the way. Good on you." Natasha chuckled at Christine's baffled expression.

"Emma thinks birthdays are silly, and she recently had one," Natasha explained. "Says that the mothers should be appreciated rather than the children."

"Well duh! I didn't do anything when I was born. It was my biological mother that did all the work," Emma protested the amused glances the adults were giving her.

"What about the dads?" Clint said, honestly curious about her opinion, and Emma shot him a disgusted look.

"When cismen start pushing babies out of their vaginas, sure, I'll let them have some credit," Emma said with an eyeroll. Jimmy's eyes were wide, and Emma snorted. "Vagina," she repeated, louder, making him clear his throat and blush a little. Christine laughed heartily.

"You're a tough kid. I hope this one turns out to be as cool as you," Christine said with a chuckle. Emma smiled at her stomach.

"I can sense it. This is gonna be a cool little kid. Do you want a boy or a girl?"

"It doesn't really matter," Christine smiled indulgently. "As long as it's healthy." Emma tilted her head and drew her hands back, nodding.

"Yeah. I think it's gonna be a girl."

"Since when are you a doctor, Em?" Clint chuckled. Emma smirked.

"I just know. Girls are kickass. This kid is gonna be kickass. Gotta be a girl," she explained.

"Sound logic," Natasha allowed with a small smile.

"So, when did you two decide to adopt?" Christine smiled. Clint stared at Natasha, trying to grab a backstory out of thin air, when Emma beat him to the punch.

"They weren't actually together when they got me," Emma confided. "I just kind of... Dropped into their life and I'm pretty cool, y'know, so they decided to keep me. Clint likes strays."

Natasha let out a surprised snicker at that, and Clint raised an eyebrow in challenge.

"Oh, you think that's funny, Nat?" he asked. Natasha smirked.

"I do," she said. Clint huffed and crossed his arms over his chest, but Natasha noticed the amused twinkle in his eyes.

\---

They were bamboozled into staying for dinner, and when they began heading back, after Emma had gotten to cuddle the kittens some more, especially Violet, it was decidedly darker than when they'd gotten there.

Emma was shuffled off to bed when she almost fell asleep on Natasha in the couch, and an hour later, Nat and Clint began trudging towards their beds as well.

Clint was brushing his teeth in the bathroom when he noticed just how quiet Natasha was being. Usually, she wasn't chatty when they were getting ready to go to bed, but there was a distant look on her face that worried him a little.

"Hey Nat?" he said with his toothbrush still in his mouth, and Natasha looked up, meeting his eyes in the mirror. "What's up?"

"Nothing," she said, and he stared silently at her, waiting for her to give up. When they stared at each other for almost two minutes and she didn't give in, Clint exhaled through his nose.

"C'mon, Tasha. I know you. I know when something is wrong. Talk to me," he pleaded, and Natasha tilted her head to the side in thought, mulling over that for a while. Finally, she leaned against the doorframe and crossed her arms over her chest.

"You know we can't ever be like that, right?" Natasha asked him. Clint furrowed his eyebrows.

"Like what?" he asked, spitting into the sink.

"Like Jimmy and Christine. If you're with me, you can never have biological children, Clint," Natasha pressed. Clint's reflection shot her an incredulous look.

"What? You know I don't care about that. I've got you. I've got Emma. That's all I need. Honestly."

"I wouldn't blame you, you know," Natasha said quietly. "If you wanted your own children."

"Own chi- Nat, where's this coming from?" he asked, turning around to face her. She shrugged, and looked down the hallway leading to Emma's room. "Tasha, look at me."

Natasha didn't turn, and only reluctantly managed to when Clint's warm hand cupped her face. His calm eyes met hers, and she felt the corners of her eyes burn annoyingly.

"I knew what I signed up for when we got together. This is more than enough for me, Tash. Trust me," Clint whispered, as if the words were secret and theirs and theirs alone. "Nothing could ever be better than this, better than what we have. Okay? _Nothing_."

Natasha stared at him, and Clint smiled gently, kissing her forehead with minted breath.

"You know I don't want to get married either, right?" she asked him, and Clint grinned.

"I know," he promised as he made his way back to the washbasin, rinsing his toothbrush out and his mouth.

"I'm not going to change my mind about that," she stated firmly, and he shrugged.

"I bet I can make you." She narrowed her eyes at him, and his hands shot up in surrender, still grinning. "Alright. I won't try. I get it. Man-eating spider, not man-marrying spider."

Natasha gave him a suspicious glare before retreating to their bedroom, wondering how to nip that in the bud.

\---


	5. Lightning And Coming Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *covers face in shame* soo.... sorry I've been gone. Life's been nuts, and I've had more inspiration for stories after this one than for this one, but here it is: the final chapter. Sorry if it's a little abrupt or jumpy, but I just needed to finish this, y'know, so I could focus on other things.  
> Thank you all for reading this, new fans as well as old ones. I love hearing from you and what you think of the story and hearing suggestions and your headcanons and just???? Knowing you're real people is the coolest fucking thing. Thank you, so so so much, for your support and love. You're all the best!! <3

 

After an entire week of great, sunny weather, it took a turn for the worse. Emma watched as the first, fat drops of rain came down outside, and realized she was stuck in a house without wifi on a rainy day. She'd never been a huge fan of books, seeing as she found reading a little tricky still, so now she had absolutely _nothing_ to do.

"This is awful!" Emma declared loudly as they ate breakfast. 

"You love rain," Clint said with furrowed eyebrows, biting into his french toast.

"But I don't like being out in it, and I have nothing to do in here!"

"We can build a nest!" Clint said excitedly, and saw Emma's eyes light up. 

"And watch movies and eat popcorn and candy?" she demanded. Natasha smiled. 

"We could make a run to the store and get stuff for smores too," she suggested as she ate another raspberry from her bowl. Raspberries directly from the garden, because Clint had slapped her hand away from the frozen ones at the supermarket and looked apalled. 

"Where would we make them?" Emma asked, looking genuinely confused.

"We have a fireplace here," Clint remarked. "We could probably do popcorn old-style now that you mention it. I'm sure we have one of those pans lying around here somewhere." 

"Oh my god, you're such a farm boy," Natasha marveled, getting a pout from the archer. 

"So? You love old-style popcorn. Don't try to deny it," he complained as Emma got up, already heading for the stairs. "Hold it, young lady!" Emma stopped halfway up the stairs, and bent backwards holding onto the rail to stare down the hallway. 

"Yeah?" she called. 

"Where are you going?"

"Putting on pants?" she suggested as Clint appeared in the hallway. 

"Already?"

"The snacks aren't going to buy themselves," Emma pointed out. Clint shrugged. 

"That's true. Alright, we'll dress and leave," he agreed, and Emma shot him a beaming smile before taking off up the stairs. Clint shook his head with a smile as he sat back down next to Natasha, stole one of her raspberries. "She's so easily excitable."

Natasha hummed. "You can't blame her for that. She's probably never made a rainy-day-nest."

"Neither have you," Clint pointed out. Natasha took a bite of his French toast and shrugged. 

"It's harder to excite me," she said. 

"I do my damn best to." Natasha smirked at him. 

"You have your ways," she agreed as he stole his French toast back, or at least what was left of it. He tutted and finished it in one bite as Emma bounded down the stairs. 

"C'mon guys, let's go!"

\---

"Hey guys, do we want any chips?" Natasha asked distantly from the aisle over, and Emma looked up at Clint from where she was hanging on the cart. 

" _Do_ we want any chips?" she questioned, and Clint snorted. 

"Obviously," he said as he shoved some Cocoa Puffs into the cart. "Doritos, please."

"Get Doritos and Pringles!" Emma shouted back.

"Nacho cheese and Sour Cream?" she guessed.

"Yes please!" Natasha made an affirming noise and appeared from the other aisle with Pringles and Doritos, as well as a pack of peanuts. 

"We're clearing all the shelves out. Time to wrap this up," she said meaningfully, and Emma and Clint grumbled, but only added a pack of gum by the register. 

When they'd paid and gone home, Clint immediately set out to fixing the rain-nest, carrying the master bedroom's mattress downstairs and tossing all of the pillows and blankets in the house onto it. 

"We're going to have crumbs in our bed after this," Natasha argued as Clint set the mattress down. 

"Don't you worry 'bout a thing," he smiled as he snatched a blanket off the couch, where Emma was sat in her pjs again, watching how the nest was being made. He shook it out gracefully over the entire mattress, and smiled at Natasha, who gave him a doubtful look. 

"I'll let you sleep on the crummy side of the bed then," Natasha decided before disappearing into the kitchen. 

As soon as the nest was assembled, Emma hopped into it, feeling around a little. 

"Do you approve of the nest?" Clint asked teasingly, and Emma looked like she was considering it, touching a few of the pillows. 

"Good enough," she decided.

" _Good enough_? I'll have you know that's a damn fine nest you're sitting in right there. Scootch over, you little nest-moocher." Emma did as told, stealing her covers from the pile left in the couch, and wrapping them around herself. 

The rain pounded on the windows, drenching the fields outside in some much needed water. Emma watched the pearls of rain run down the glass, and listened to the soothing hum of the tv that was on in the corner, playing the local news. Her covers were soft against her exposed arms, and she could smell Natasha making hot cocoa in the kitchen. Clint was spreading out next to her, rifling through the dvds on the couch with a concentrated look. 

She felt safe. 

"Alright, what movie are we watching first, Lorax or Die Hard?" Clint asked, holding the boxes up. He blinked, and stared down at her. "There's a sentence I was pretty sure I was never gonna utter."

Emma smiled.

"I dunno. Nat, Die Hard or Lorax?" Emma called. Natasha snorted as she appeared in the doorway, in sweats and Clint's flannel, holding a tray.

"Lorax," she said as she set the tray down outside of the nest. It was filled with goodies, from popcorn and peanuts to candy and chocolate. Emma's mouth watered just looking at it.

The window lit up with lightning, and Emma jumped, putting a crack in one of the glass bowls closest to her.

"Shit," she breathed. Clint hummed thoughtfully.

"The weather decided for us; neither of them," Clint joked, rubbing Emma's back in reassurance.

"Aw, what?" Emma whined as Natasha sighed and pulled the plug on the tv. "Why do we have to unplug the tv?"

"Storm safety," Clint shrugged as Natasha joined them in the nest. 

"What're we supposed to do now then?" 

"We have tons of snacks, a warm nest, what _can't_ we do?" Clint grinned as he swept a hand over their treasures. Emma raised an unimpressed eyebrow at him. Natasha rolled her eyes fondly as she wrapped herself up in a blanket. Clint managed to steal the ends of one, and pull her into his side using it. 

Begrudgingly, Natasha scooted over to him, letting him wrap himself up in the other end. Clint tended to run hot, so he made the blanket a furnace pretty much immediately. 

"We can talk, for example," Natasha suggested. She was actually curious what Emma would want to talk about. Emma shrugged. 

"Alright. Did you know that the clouds that make violent thunderstorms are called cumulunimbus?" she said. Both agents blinked. 

"No," Clint said, smiling. "I did not know that. Did you learn that in school?" 

Emma nodded. "Yup. And cumulunimbus clouds are usually up really high and look like cottonballs before they wreck the place."

"What's your favorite subject currently?" Natasha questioned, discreetely burrowing further into Clint's side. Emma tilted her head to the side. 

"Science probably. It's trippy." Another flash of light from outside, and this time Emma just turned to look at it, tilting her head like she was listening for something. A few more seconds passed before the thunder broke out so loud it felt like the ground was vibrating. "Like that. Since light travels faster than sound, we see the light before we hear the thunder. And being in a car while there's lightning is good not because of the rubber wheels but because if the car would get hit, the electricity would follow the metal trying to get to the ground, which is called the skin effect."

Natasha and Clint stared at her for a few moments, and then Natasha tilted her head a little, a small smile tugging on her lips. 

"And yet you don't know that you should unplug your devices when there's a storm," she said. Emma made a 'yeah, well' noise, which made Clint chuckle. 

"Well, you're just full of fun facts."

"Yup."

"So that's what you're doing. Listening to where the lightning is." Emma nodded. "Really? You can do that? Since when?" Clint asked, surprised. Emma shrugged with a small smile. 

"Hope, Mrs. Zambetti, and Bruce's combined efforts have made me quite the math-wiz," she said proudly. 

"That's very good," Natasha praised, and Emma shrugged again, her cheeks turning a little pinker. Lightning flashed outside as Emma pulled the bowl with candy up into her lap. She counted in her head again.

"How far off was that one?" Clint asked as the thunder rumbled above them. Emma tilted her head in thought.

"Seeing as sound travels at roughly 340 meters per second through air, and that boom was six seconds off," Emma said thoughtfully, wrinkling her nose before stuffing a Skittle into her mouth. "So around 2040 meters off. Over two kilometers."

"And in English?" Clint asked. With a roll of her eyes, the redhead tightened the cocoon of blankets around her, keeping the candy bowl safely inside. 

"Y'know, only Americans use feet and yards, because to the rest of the world, it makes absolutely no sense whatsoever."

"In American, then." Emma did the math, tilting her head from side to side as she thought.

"Roughly 6690 feet," she grumbled. "But I'd still like to point out that the metric system makes a whole bunch more sense. Like, ten centimeters is a decimeter, a hundred centimeters is a meter, a thousand meters is a kilometer. Not twelve thumbs makes a foot and three feet makes a yard. That's just stupid."

"That's the American way," Natasha shrugged as she reached for her soda, which was standing outside of the nest.

"Oh yeah. You're Russian," Emma said with a laugh. 

"Russian-American. Really, she's more American than Russian nowadays," Clint said with a so-so motion of his hand,

"On paper I'm an American," Natasha agreed. "At heart and liver, I'm Russian."

Emma snickered. "Say lightning in Russian," she urged. 

"молния," Natasha said effortlessly, and Clint got goosebumps just hearing the way the pitch of her voice dropped a little to accomodate for her native language. 

Emma parroted it, before stuffing a tiny banana-shaped candy into her mouth.

"Good," Natasha said approvingly. "Does Bucky ever try to teach you Russian?"

"Not really. Not unless I ask him to. So far I only know some words, and a couple of insults, but it doesn't seem too hard. I'm considering switching from French to Russian next quarter, but I don't wanna leave Layla."

"Can you say anything in French?" Clint asked skeptically. Emma made a noise of frustration. 

"Merde," she said, and Clint snorted. 

"School is shit at teaching things," he said with a shrug, and Emma's eyes narrowed dangerously at him. 

"Well, a language needs to be heard to be ingrained properly," Natasha argued. "Stop telling Emma to drop out."

"I'm not telling her to drop out, I'm just saying that the real world would be a much better teacher," Clint argued back as he took the bowl of chips from the tray. The lightning kept flashing outside, but it was taking longer for the thunder to reach them. 

"Yeah, thanks, but I've had enough of real-world teaching for a while. Let me be trapped in the American school system, please," Emma frowned. Clint groaned. 

"Goddamn, we're gonna have to put you through college, aren't we? That's going to be expensive," he sighed. 

"You're so rich, money might as well be bleeding out of your ears, and we have a billionare friend that likes to educate people. I think we'll be fine," Natasha remarked dryly. 

"You're rich?" Emma asked him incredulously. Clint gave a weak shrug. 

"Kinda."

"Wow. Are all superheroes rich, or is it just you guys?" 

"I'm not rich," Natasha pointed out. 

"Yeah, but you could probably rob Clint blind now that you have me together. You'd just have to leave him," Emma said, brushing that comment off. Clint raised a worried eyebrow. 

"Do we need to have a talk about golddigging?" he asked her sternly.

"Nah. I know what that is."

"Do you also know it's morally wrong?" Emma made a so-so motion with her hand. 

"I _could_ do it, but that doesn't mean I _will_."

"Your dubious morals worry me," he announced. 

"Hey, they're less dubious now than they were a year ago. I believe in doing the right thing," Emma argued. "You should be pleased with my progress."

"We are," Natasha said sincerely as she grabbed the peanuts. The nest really was quite comfortable. She understood why Clint loved to make them. 

Emma gave a sharp nod, and scooted closer to the two of them in the nest, leaning against Clint's shoulder.

"You're such a cuddlebug," Clint laughed quietly, giving her hair a kiss as thunder rumbled outside and the rain began beating down even heavier on the roof of the farmhouse. 

"I have no shame about my cuddlebug tendencies," Emma said frankly as she wiggled down a little, until the blankets were covering her head and she looked kind of like a blue caterpilla. "I'll tell you what's shameful; we have a fire going and we haven't made s'mores. That's just downright un-American." 

"I agree," Natasha said in a deadpan, and Clint laughed.

"Alright, I'm busting out the s'mores, people, prepare yourself!" he said, getting up from the nest.

\---

Emma looked down the hallway, heard pots banging together and the fridge opening as Clint and Natasha went about making dinner. This was the time to strike. 

The entire week they'd been at the farm, Emma had never gotten into this one room. The last bedroom. Clint's old bedroom. She was just so curious. What was hiding in there that was so forbidden?

Taking her chance, Emma opened the door, and slipped inside. 

The blinds weren't drawn, but the dark clouds outside made sure that didn't make a difference, so she turned the lights on. The walls were dark green and light green in patches where the sun had made the color fade, and there was a small bed in one of the corners. The same frame that had been on the nightstand in her room was here, on said small bed. No posters in here, but a few children's drawings were on the walls. She wondered why Clint hadn't fixed this room up, why he hadn't bothered to vaccum the carpet in ages. 

She stared at the carpet, at the thick dust on the wooden floor. Emma tilted her head as she crouched down to look at where the carpet was laying. The dust next to it seemed just a little bit thinner than the other parts of the floor. 

Emma slowly dragged the carpet back to it's original position, and her eyes widened. 

There was blood on the floor. 

Not a lot of it, really, only a few spatters that seemed to have been scrubbed so hard it was a wonder they could still be seen. What was blood doing on Clint's childhood room's floor? 

Quickly, Emma grabbed the frame from the bed, and stroked her thumb over the thin layer of dust now clinging to it. On Clint's mom's arm was a bruise, something Emma had disregarded as a shadow when she'd seen it earlier. Now that she looked closer, Barney was missing one of his front teeth, which wouldn't have seemed strange to her, except she knew exactly which of Barney's teeth weren't real. He'd told her himself, when she'd lost her last tooth.

And Clint. Although he was smiling, it was cautious, a little scared. Suddenly the picture didn't seem so happy at all, and Emma stared at the bloodstains again, tracing one with her nail. 

She was so distracted by the crushing realization that she didn't hear it when someone came up the stairs. It wasn't until Clint opened the door to his old room to find her sitting there that she noticed him.

"What are you doing?" he asked sharply, and Emma looked up from the floor. 

"Your dad beat the shit out of you," she whispered with tears in her eyes. Clint's eyes focused on the bloodstains hidden under his carpet, and then on the picture in her hands. His jaw clenched. 

"Yeah. So what?" he ground out. Emma stared at him with big, sad eyes. 

"Barney didn't mention that."

"It's really not something I want to talk about, either," Clint acknowledged, a little sharply. Emma traced Barney's face on the picture distractedly, and looked even sadder. 

"That's why you wanted to be a superhero, isn't it? You didn't want to be like him," she said softly. Clint wanted to be enraged that Emma was in his old room, that she'd gone in without permission, but when he looked into her kind eyes, too wise for one who was only fourteen, he could feel the fight bleed out of him. 

"I wanted to be superhero because I know things that I can use to save people, and I can _help_." He didn't mean to sound so desperate, but Emma didn't acknowledge it. She was silent for another few moments, and then she tapped the picture with her fingers.

"How did your parents die?" she asked. "One orphan to another." Clint huffed out a breath, and crouched down to grab the picture from Emma's hands. He looked so small. Fragile. Slight for his age.

"Car accident," he said softly as he stared at his mom's smile. "Me and Barney were in the car with them. Dad was drunk. He was always drunk. Always liked to push us all around." He clenched his jaw as Emma nodded, a small motion he wouldn't have noticed if he hadn't been himself. 

"Did your mom love you?" she asked. Clint contemplated that. 

"Yeah. She did. She just wasn't strong enough to fight him. That wasn't her fault," he replied as he thought back. Emma nodded a little more, and then grabbed his hand, as if she needed some human contact to ground her as she took a deep breath. 

"I remember that I wasn't... Entirely appreciated, as a kid. Bea and Theo paid attention to me, sure, but just the barest minimum. I'm pretty sure that if they hadn't been against abortion, I wouldn't have existed today," she chuckled self-depricatingly. "They had a bust that I ruined, y'know? I was a mistake."

"No," Clint said immediately, cutting her off as he put the picture down to cradle her face, look into her vulnerable blue-green-grey eyes. "You weren't a mistake. Never think you're a mistake. A happy accident, maybe, but never a mistake."

"I was, though," Emma said, and Clint shook his head vehemently.

"No. Happy accident," he said again, stroking her cheek with his knuckles. "You're the greatest accident that's ever happened." 

Emma stared at him in silence for a few moments, and then she swallowed hard.

"Did you come up here for a reason, or do you have sensors around here that I didn't see?" she asked, her voice a little frail. Clint let himself smile reassuringly, just the tiniest bit. 

"I'm not that paranoid."

"You can't blame a girl for asking." He scoffed and got up, dragging Emma with him. 

"Dinner's ready, and then we have to gear up for seeing the kittens one last time tomorrow before we leave," he said. Emma pouted. 

"I want a kitten, dad," she complained as he shuffled her out of his room and closed the door again, letting himself breathe as soon as the door had clicked shut.

"You know that's a huge responsibility," Clint replied as Emma took the stairs down two at a time.

"We handle Lucky just fine," she pointed out as she hopped into the dining room. 

"What're we talking about?" Natasha asked as she smacked a wad of slippery spaghetti onto Emma's plate. 

"I want a kitten," she declared. "But Clint says it's a big responsibility, and I said we handle Lucky fine."

"Because we have people on the team that like running and can use the company," Natasha said as she grabbed her own spaghetti, handing Emma the chicken. "It's not the same with a cat."

"Besides, we live in a tower with tons of balconies and very few railings," Clint added as he was handed the chicken. "The cat could go splat." Emma gasped. 

"Don't even say things like that!" she exclaimed before shoving too much spaghetti into her mouth. 

"It's a possibility," Clint pressed. "I didn't say I wanted it to go splat." Emma shook her head at him disappointedly. 

"Cat's are too smart for that," Natasha said distractedly as she swirled some spaghetti onto her fork. 

"Since Clint doesn't want a cat, and Nat wants a cat, I think I should be the tie-breaker, and I say we should get a cat," Emma said firmly, stabbing the chicken on her plate. 

Clint's snort was amused. "This is more of a parent discussion than tie-breaker discussion."

"Aw, c'mon guys," Emma said, turning her big eyes at Natasha. "You know we need a cat to complete our family."

"Isn't one pet enough furry love for you?" Clint asked. Emma tilted her head from side to side as she chewed. 

"It was, until I met the kittens," she said as soon as she'd swallowed. Clint cursed Jimmy's cute kittens. 

"We're not getting a cat," Clint said with an exasperated shake of his head. 

"Not now, at least," Natasha said distractedly. 

"What do you mean, _not now_?" Clint asked incredulously. Natasha looked up and met his gaze steadily. 

"I mean that we, as _parents_ , have to talk this through before we decide anything," Natasha said calmly. Emma sighed.

"Layla says a maybe is parent-speak for no," she whined. 

"Layla isn't always right," Natasha said, not dropping Clint's gaze. Silent understanding passed between the two as Emma protested, and Clint had to stop himself from smiling at the look in Natasha's eyes. 

Maybe Natasha didn't fall for small kittens' huge eyes, but she wasn't entirely immune to Emma's pleading ones.

\---

After another swing by Jimmy and Christine for Emma to cuddle Violet and Micro, and all the other kittens the next day, the small family set to packing. 

On the day of their departure, they ate a quick breakfast of ice cream and milk and cereal and other perishables to get them out of the fridge and the pantry. Emma wasn't in too good of a mood, and neither were either of the agents. 

During the ten days they'd stayed at the farm, it had felt like a second home, welcoming and safe. Even Clint hadn't felt too much resentment. He'd gotten tons of things done, too. He liked working with his hands, and farming was great for that. 

Clint looked up from his phone as he heard sullen steps in the staircase. He was standing in the hallway, ready to go to the airport as soon as Natasha and Emma got their things settled. If he had to guess, those sullen steps belonged to his teenage daughter, not Natasha. 

As he'd thought, Emma appeared in her new ripped jeans and her new leather jacket, lower lip jutting out a little as she pouted.

"Packed and ready to go, sweetie?" Clint asked with a barely concealed smile. 

"Yup," Emma sighed, tossing her bag into the pile next to him. 

"Are you sure you haven't forgotten anything? You know that it's a long way from New York to Iowa. If you forget something here, we're not just gonna zoom down to get it." Emma nodded, and sighed again, heavily. Clint restrained his grin at her not-so-subtle attention seeking, and ran a hand over her hair. "What's up?"

"I'm gonna miss this place. I've figured out which boards creak in the stairs and how to reach the top cabinet in the bathroom without having to climb the damn sink. I think I've even gotten fit from running up and down the stairs," Emma sighed wistfully, and Clint snorted. 

"I'm not sure you can get fit from going up and down a flight of stairs for a week and a half," he said with a smile and a shake of his head. 

"I did," Emma scowled, patting her tanned thighs.

"Alright, if you say so," Clint smiled, ruffling her hair distantly. "We'll come back some year. Maybe we can drag Bucky with us, too, so the two of you don't get withdrawal or something."

"Y'know, addiction is a serious thing."

"Isn't your friendship with Bucky also a serious thing?" Emma couldn't deny that, so she just sighed heavily, again. Clint thought the noise was pretty cute. 

"I miss him."

"I know you do. We'll see him soon," he promised, looking up as Natasha appeared from upstairs, gliding down the stairs gracefully with a phone held to her ear. 

"Sure thing, Chrissy," she said, uncharacteristically sweet as she dumped her bag next to theirs. "I'll be sure to do that. You too. Bye." She hung up, and immediately dropped the super-sunny smile, massaging a temple. "Chrissy and Jimmy say hi."

"Did Chrissy chatter your ears off?" Clint grinned, and Natasha narrowed her eyes at him. 

"Does she have a tendency to go on about her herb garden for ten minutes?" Natasha asked. Clint nodded. "Then yes. A little bit." He smiled at her.

"You ready to go?" he asked. Natasha didn't even look around before she nodded. "Alright, let's get our stuff into the car. C'mon."

\---

The ride back to New York was easier than the trip there, and Emma embraced Happy in a hug as soon as she caught sight of him. She looked up at him with bright eyes as he patted her shoulder, and grinned. 

"Hi Happy! How's Pep? What're you guys announcing?" she asked a little breathlessly. Happy smiled. 

"You'll just have to wait and see. Now, get into the car before the paparazzi get an eyeful of you," he said, and the three obliged, hopping into the car. 

Emma watched the big buildings flow by around her as the car traveled the fastest way to the tower, rolling the window down a little so she could get a lungful of that smelly city air. She smiled as she saw a man yell at another man from a cab, and saw a business woman striding confidently forward. 

Smalltowns were all good and fine, but Emma really loved being back in New York.

Emma turned her phone's mobile internet on, and immediately, her phone began buzzing continuously as notifications filled her screen. She gasped as she caught sight of them being from Layla about kissing Aaron, but it was lost in the flood.

It wasn't even worth trying to unlock her phone yet, so she just set it down, and watched with building anticipation as the big A signaling her true home began coming closer.

She was nearly vibrating out of her seat when they drove into the garage, and shoved the door open so quickly she nearly broke it off, hopping out of the car to grin up at the ceiling. 

"Hi Jarvis!" she exclaimed. 

"Welcome home, Miss Emma," Jarvis greeted pleasantly as Clint slid out of the car after her, smiling at her enthusiasm. "How was your vacation, Agents?"

"Nice," Natasha admitted as she slammed the door on the other side closed, grabbing her bag out of the trunk as Happy popped it open. 

"It was awesome!" Emma declared. "I've missed you, Jay."

"It has been rather dull without you, miss," Jarvis said back. Emma laughed that. 

"I doubt that. Is Kate still around?" she asked as Happy picked up her bag, and slammed the trunk closed again. 

"Miss Bishop and Miss Chavez left three days ago," Jarvis replied. 

"Aw. Did someone get me Miss America's autograph at least?"

"Sergeant Barnes did."

"I knew I loved that man for a reason," Emma said happily as they all entered the elevator. Natasha pressed the button for the common room and smiled softly as Emma chattered away at Jarvis, reconnecting to those she'd gotten used to having around. It wouldn't be long before she'd be calling Hope, TJ, Layla, Damian, all to reconnect. 

People pointed out that Emma was very alike the two of them, but in some ways, she was the complete opposite. Emma liked to keep connections alive, always have a hand outstretched to those around her, liked to use other people as a way of realigning herself, steadying herself. The only person Natasha had ever really realigned herself with was Clint, after long missions that had grated on her down to the bone, after long times apart.

She must've gotten a distant look on her face, because suddenly a warm hand was slipped into her own, and Clint's thumb began rubbing in circles distractedly over her thumb.

The door pinged open, and Emma pretty much flew out of the elevator, and straight into Bucky's waiting arms. 

"I'm surprised we weren't expecting that to happen," came Tony's voice from further into the kitchen, and Clint chuckled as he watched Emma's hand grapple at Bucky's green shirt that she hated so much. Natasha gave Bucky's shoulder a pat as she walked by him into the kitchen to greet the rest of the team. 

After everyone had done the rounds, Emma and Bucky were still standing there, hugging. 

"Should we just leave them there?" Darcy laughed. "I think they need some recovery time from this traumatic escapade."

"I know that was sarcasm, but I'm pretty sure it was some kind of traumatic for these two," Tony said with a snort as he recieved an eyeroll from his husband. "What? We don't even hug that long after I've been gone for a month."

"You do other, dirtier things," Darcy said and wiggled her eyebrows. Steve covered his son's ears, and Peter looked up at his other dad. 

"Why shh?" he asked. Steve mimed nonsense, and Peter frowned adorably. "Can't hear, da." Steve uncovered his ears and booped his son on the nose.

"Little boys like you shouldn't hear things like that," he said, pointedly shooting Darcy a look. She smiled innocently at Peter as his head whipped around to her. 

"Just get into the living room, the lot of you," Happy said, smiling. 

"Oh, are you and Pepper finally going to tell us what you've been saying you're gonna tell us?" Tony asked his friend, and Happy smirked. 

"She's on her way up now," he said. 

"Well I'll be damned," Tony said as they all disappeared into the living room. 

Emma finally lifted her head from Bucky's neck, and grinned at him. 

"Hi," she said. Bucky smiled back, his smile not as bright as it should've been. Obviously, his best friend noticed immediately. 

"Hi, doll," he replied with a soft sigh, still holding her above the floor. "I've missed you."

"Fuck man, I've missed you too," she replied gently, brushing a strand of his long hair out of his face. "What's up with you?"

"You won't let me slip out of it just this once?" Bucky asked as he set her back down on her feet, and Emma clicked her tongue disapprovingly. 

"You know me better than that," she said softly. He rolled his shoulders as he mulled that over, and then he nodded, looking down at their shoes. 

"Yeah, I just... You're gonna be mad," he said quietly. 

"Dude, c'mon. It's me," Emma said gently, sitting down in one of the chairs by the kitchen table. Bucky stood in front of her, contemplating yet again. She wondered when the hell his face had become so expressive.

Sure, to a stranger on the town, his face would look plain and blank, but it was all about the little things. The minute twitch of his lips as he bit his tongue, the way he blinked slowly rather than quickly. Contemplative. 

"You know you'll feel better if you tell me," she sing-songed gently, and Bucky snorted quietly, sinking down on his knees on the kitchen floor to wrap his arms around her middle yet again. Taking advantage of the new hugging position, Emma began carding her fingers through his hair soothingly.

He gathered his courage with a deep breath, and used the exhale to force the words out of his mouth.

"I went to Darcy's house. I met her brothers and sisters and her dad," Bucky said into Emma's neck. She closed her eyes, already imagining how that would've gone, scratching his scalp lightly with her fingernails.

"How'd it go?" He let out a self-depricating chuckle, and Emma hugged him tighter, as if to squeeze all of his hatred out of him.

"I didn't last two minutes," he whispered, and she stroked down his spine gently, taking deep breaths regularly to soothe him. She kept up the hair-stroking, not only for his benefit, but for the contact it allowed her.

"You didn't do it in small doses," she chided, but oh so gently, so soft. Emma wasn't blaming him. "It's okay. You'll be able to handle it. I promise. Some day, you'll do it."

"Some day isn't soon enough," he said quietly, and reveled in the way she rubbed her smoooth cheek against his stubbled one, fascinated by the feeling. "They think I'm crazy now."

"Probably a little. But Darcy's a good presswoman. She knows how to soothe them until you can show up and dazzle them by being your true, amazing self."

Bucky cracked a weak laugh into her arms, and Emma rocked them a little.

"Amazing self?"

"Absolutely _amazing_ self."

"I doubt that."

"Then it's good you have me to believe in you, right? And Darcy. And the team. We care about you. We'll help you," she promised. They stayed hugging in silence for a while, until Emma exhaled into his hair. "Pepper's definitely announcing that she's pregnant. If that's not what they're doing, then I swear I'll eat an entire jar of Nutella."

"What a cruel punishment," Bucky chuckled weakly, and Emma smiled, kissing the top of his head before making him meet her eyes. 

"You know I love you infinitely, right? No matter what happens to you, no matter what you do. Infinitely. Okay?" she pressed. Bucky nodded. "I wanna hear you say it."

"You love me infinitely."

Emma nodded seriously. "I do."

"...I love you too. Infinitely," he promised her. Emma smiled brightly at him, and they both looked up when the elevatorbell chimed gently.

The doors revealed Pepper, who wasn't on her tablet for once, or on the phone. She was dressed smartly in a grey jacket and maroon blouse, along with a grey skirt, and she immediately lit up as she saw Emma.

"Oh, great, you're home!" Pepper said. Emma glanced down at Pepper's heels, ready to feel the familiarity of sharp-enough-to-kill heels, only to be met with three inch heels instead of six. 

"I am!" she smiled back as Bucky got back up again. Emma got her hug from Pepper before she grabbed Bucky's hand and dragged him into the livingroom giddily. "Pepper's here!" she shouted into the room, before hopping down into the couch to kiss Thor on the cheek and give Steve a proper hug. 

Happy stood up from where he'd been leaning on one of the armrests, and joined his wife behind the couches, smiling secretively as he placed a hand on Pepper's lower back. She smiled happily and wrung her hands a little nervously as Happy towered behind her. 

"You're-" Emma exclaimed, but only got so far before Bucky covered her mouth. 

"Don't steal her thunder," he murmured into her ear as he leant over the back of the couch. "Be patient." Emma grumbled, but didn't have to grumble much longer, as Pepper's smile increased tenfold.

"I'm pregnant!" she exclaimed, and Tony's jaw dropped.

Immediately encouraging shouts were heard, and Emma fist-pumped the air.

"I called it!" she cheered happily.

"What? No way," Clint said, and Emma grinned. 

"Yeah way! Jarvis?"

"Miss Emma did 'call it', Agent Barton," he confirmed, as Emma jumped over the back of the couch to join the hugging huddle that had formed around Happy and Pepper.

\---

Cake had been ordered on the new baby's behalf, and Emma had celebrated and got caught up with her entire family. She'd finally unlocked her phone, had a quick conversation with Hope and TJ, and texted Layla about calling her asap to talk about Aaron. The only one she hadn't talked to yet was Damian, and it wasn't because of hesitation, no no. 

It was because right when she was about to, Jarvis had told her that she had a visitor in the lobby. 

Suspiciously, Emma had gotten in the elevator, and had found Damian sprawled out casually in one of the cushy seats in the lobby. As usual, he was dressed in greys and blacks, the only blob of color being his t-shirt under his jacket, which was blue. As soon as their eyes met, Emma grinned and put her hands on her hips, raising her eyebrows at him. 

Slowly, Damian uncurled from his comfortable position, and she wondered if it was possible to grow four inches in ten days or if she was just imagining things.

He made his way over to her, his head held high like royalty, and she felt an ache in her heart. He was haughty and annoying sometimes, sure, but damn, she'd missed him. 

"Hi," she said up to him, and Damian hummed in response. 

"Hello Barton," he said lowly, and Emma smiled, grabbing the zipper of his jacket distractedly. 

"I'm not sure if it's cool to call your girlfriend by her last name," she said dubiously. Damian rolled his blue-green eyes, and Emma gripped his jacket tighter, pulling him in closer. He was warm, she could feel that even from a few inches away. It was nice, really. He smelled really nice too. 

"Why do you care if it's cool or not?" he asked. Emma shrugged. 

"I don't, really. But I like it when you say my name. My first name, that is." Damian sighed through his nose, and grabbed her chin, tilting her head up the new, frustrating, and shocking inches to kiss her lips briefly. It sent tingles up her spine, and she traded the zipper on his jacket for his warm hand, squeezing a little distractedly.

"Yes, well. I prefer to call people by their last names."

"Because of emotional distance, yeah, yeah, I get it, I just don't get why I have to be Barton when I could be Emma. Let me hear you say it." Damian's eyes narrowed, as though it was some trick, as if he was afraid of being ridiculed.

"Emma," he said carefully, and Emma smiled up at him. 

"There we are! Not too hard, was it? Now, how'd you know I was home? Have you been hanging around outside of the tower?" Emma asked incredulously. Damian had a petulant look on his face. 

"No," he said. Emma raised her eyebrows. 

"Honestly, you should be glad that I know you mean well, and that you're not some abusive asshole with extreme issues. Or a stalker. Maybe a bit of a stalker, really." Damian rolled his eyes, and Emma grinned at him, tugging him into the private elevator. "Want cake?"

"Do I have a choice?" Damian asked, waving towards the doors as they closed with the hand that wasn't tangled in hers. 

"Not really," Emma shrugged, and Damian's blue eyes narrowed playfully at her. Emma laughed, and wondered how this summer could possibly get any better.

\---


End file.
